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THE  YELLOWSMli 

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JOHN   ERMINE 
OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE 


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f^)^' 


John  Ermine. 


JOHN     ERMINE 

OF   THE    YELLOWSTONE 


BY 

FREDERIC   REMINGTON 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 


NetD  g0tk 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON :  MACMILLAN  AND  CO.,  Ltd. 
AU  rights  reserved 


COFY«IGHT,   190a, 

By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  November,  1902.     Reprinted  December, 
1902  ;  January,  June,  1903  ;  March,  October,  1908;  August,  19x3. 


J.  &  Cuihing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  k  Sattli 
Norwood  Mail.  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 

CHATTBlt  MOB 

I.    Virginia  City i 

II.    White  Weasel 12 

III.  The  Coming  of  the  Great  Spirit        .        .      23 

IV.  Crooked-Bear 37 

V.    The  White  Medicine 51 

VI.    John  Ermine 65 

VII.    Transformation 77 

VIII.    Playing  a  Man's  Part 86 

IX.    In  Camp ,..101 

X.  A  Brush  with  the  Sioux       .       .       .       .115 

XI.  The  Truth  of  the  Eyes        ....    134 

XII.    Katherine 137 

XIII.  Playing  with  Fire 150 

XIV.  In  Love 167 

XV.  Bringing  in  the  Wolf    .       .       .       .       .178 

XVI.    A  Hunt 198 

XVII.    A  Proposal 217 

XVIII.    Man  to  Man 229 

XIX.    Flight 247 

XX.  The  End  of  All  Things        .       .       .       .262 


268525 


V 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

John  Ermine     .        • Frontispiece 

The  Chairman  . 5 

A  Crow 'IS 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  bunch  sat  Weasel " .        .        .        .31 

"  He  called  the  boy  to  him  and  put  his  arm  around  him  "  .  47 

Wolf-Voice 84 

"'Halt!    Who  goes  there?*" 97 

Captain  Lewis 105 

Major  Ben  Searles •        •        •  117 

"  Bullets  kicked  up  the  dust " 127 

Katherine 142 

The  Englishman 144 

"  '  Will  you  please  carry  my  parasol  for  me  ? ' "  .        .        .  157 

Shockley 182 

"  He  bore  the  limp  form  to  the  sands  "      .        .        .        .  209 

"  A  tremendous  bang  roared  around  the  room  " .        .        •  239 

Ramon 254 


^ 


JOHN    ERMINE 


CHAPTER  I 


VIRGINIA  CITY 


NE  fine  morning  in  the  fall  of  '64 
Alder  Gulch  rolled  up  its  shirt 
sleeves  and  fell  to  the  upheaving, 
sluicing,  drifting,  and  cradling  of  the 
gravel.  It  did  not  feel  exactly  like 
old-fashioned  everyday  work  to  the 
muddy,  case-hardened  diggers.  Each 
man  knew  that  by  evening  he  would 
see  the  level  of  dust  rise  higher  in 
his  long  buckskin  gold-bags.  All  this  made  for  the 
day  when  he  could  retire  to  the  green  East  and 
marry  some  beautiful  girl  —  thereafter  having  nothing 
to  do  but  eat  pie  and  smoke  fragrant  cigars  in  a 
basking  sunshine  of  no-work.  Pie  up  at  Kustar's 
bake-shop  was  now  one  dollar  a  pie,  and  a  pipe  full 
of  molasses  and  slivers  was  the  best  to  be  had  in  the 
market.  Life  was  hard  at  Alder  in  those  days  —  it 
was  practical;  and  when  its  denizens  became  senti- 
mental, it  took  these  unlovely  forms,  sad  to  relate. 

Notwithstanding  the  hundreds  who  toiled  in  the 
gulches,  Virginia  City  itself  held  hurrying  crowds,  — 


2  JOHN   ERMINE 

Mormon  freighters,  pack  trains,  ponies,  dirty  men 
off  the  trails,  wan  pilgrims,  Indians,  Chinese,  and 
almost  everything  else  not  angelic. 

Into  this  bustle  rode  Rocky  Dan,  who,  after  dealing 
faro  all  night  at  the  "  Happy  Days "  shebang,  had 
gone  for  a  horseback  ride  through  the  hills  to  brighten 
his  eyes  and  loosen  his  nerves.  Reining  up  before 
this  place,  he  tied  his  pony  where  a  horse-boy  from 
the  livery  corral  could  find  it.  Striding  into  that 
unhallowed  hall  of  Sheol,  he  sang  out,  "  Say,  fellers, 
I've  just  seen  a  thing  out  in  the  hills  which  near 
knocked  me  off'en  my  horse.  You  couldn't  guess 
what  it  was  nohow.  I  don't  believe  half  what  I 
see  and  nothin'  what  I  read,  but  it's  out  thar  in 
the  hills,  and  you  can  go  throw  your  eyes  over  it 
yourselves." 

"  What  .'*  a  new  thing,  Dan  ?  No !  No !  Dan,  you 
wouldn't  come  here  with  anything  good  and  blurt  it 
out,"  said  the  rude  patrons  of  the  "  Happy  Days  " 
mahogany,  vulturing  about  Rocky  Dan,  keen  for  any- 
thing new  in  the  way  of  gravel. 

"  I  gamble  it  wa'n't  a  murder — that  wouldn't  knock 
you  off'en  your  horse,  jus'  to  see  one  —  hey,  Dan.?  " 
ventured  another. 

"  No,  no,"  vouched  Dan,  laboring  under  an  excite- 
ment ill  becoming  a  faro-dealer.  Recovering  himself, 
he  told  the  bartender  to  '  perform  his  function.'  The 
"  valley  tan  "  having  been  disposed  of,  Dan  added  :  — 

"  It  was  a  boy !  " 

"Boy  —  boy  —  a  boy.?"  sighed  the  crowd,  setting 


VIRGINIA  CITY  3 

back  their  'empties.*  "A  boy  ain't  exactly  new, 
Dan,"  added  one. 

**  No,  that's  so,"  he  continued,  in  his  unprofessional 
perplexity,  "but  this  was  a  white  boy." 

"  Well,  that  don't  make  him  any  newer,"  vocifer- 
ated the  crowd. 

"  No,  d it,  but  this  was  a  white  boy  out  in  that 

Crow  Injun  camp,  with  yeller  hair  braided  down  the 
sides  of  his  head,  all  the  same  Injun,  and  he  had  a 
bow  and  arrer,  all  the  same  Injun ;  and  I  said,  *  Hello, 
little  feller,'  and  he  pulled  his  little  bow  on  me,  all 

the  same  Injun.     D the  little  cuss,  he  was  about 

to  let  go  on  me.  I  was  too  near  them  Injuns,  any- 
how, but  I  was  on  the  best  quarter  horse  in  the  coun- 
try, as  you  know,  and  willin*  to  take  my  chance. 
Boys,  he  was  white  as  Sandy  McCalmont  there,  only 
he  didn't  have  so  many  freckles."  The  company 
regarded  the  designated  one,  who  promptly  blushed, 
and  they  gathered  the  idea  that  the  boy  was  a  decided 
blonde. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  make  of  it,  anyhow,  Dan .? " 

**What  do  I  make  of  it.?  Why,  I  make  of  it  that 
them  Injuns  has  lifted  that  kid  from  some  outfit,  and 
that  we  ought  to  go  out  and  bring  him  in.  He  don't 
belong  there,  nohow,  and  that's  sure." 

"  That's  so,"  sang  the  crowd  as  it  surged  into  the 
street ;  "  let's  saddle  up  and  go  and  get  him.  Saddle 
up !  saddle  up ! " 

The  story  blew  down  the  gulch  on  the  seven  winds. 
It  appealed  to  the  sympathies  of  all  white  men,  and 


4  JOHN   ERMINE 

with  double  force  to  their  hatred  of  the  Indians. 
There  was  no  man  at  Alder  Gulch,  even  the  owners 
of  squaws,  —  and  they  were  many,  —  who  had  not 
been  given  cause  for  this  resentment.  Business  was 
suspended.  Wagoners  cut  out  and  mounted  team- 
horses  ;  desperadoes,  hardened  roughs,  trooped  in 
with  honest  merchants  and  hardy  miners  as  the 
strung-out  cavalcade  poured  up  the  road  to  the 
plateau,  where  the  band  of  Crows  had  pitched  their 
tepees. 

"  Klat-a-way !  Klat-a-way !  "  shouted  the  men  as 
they  whipped  and  spurred  up  the  steeps.  The  road 
narrowed  near  the  top,  and  here  the  surging  horse- 
men were  stopped  by  a  few  men  who  stood  in  the 
middle  waving  and  howling  "  Halt !  "  The  crowd  had 
no  definite  scheme  of  procedure  at  any  time, — -it 
was  simply  impelled  forward  by  the  ancient  war- 
shout  of  A  rescue!  A  rescue!  The  blood  of  the 
mob  had  mounted  high,  but  it  drew  restive  rein 
before  a  big  man  who  had  forced  his  pony  up  on  the 
steep  hillside  and  was  speaking  in  a  loud,  measured, 
and  authoritative  voice. 

The  riders  felt  the  desire  for  council ;  the  ancient 
spirit  of  the  witenagemote  came  over  them.  The 
American  town  meeting,  bred  in  their  bones  and 
burned  into  their  brains,  made  them  listen  to 
the  big  temporary  chairman  with  the  yellow  lion's 
mane  blowing  about  his  head  in  the  breeze.  His 
horse  did  not  want  to  stand  still  on  the  perilous  hill- 
side, but  he  held  him  there  and  opened. 


VIRGINIA   CITY 


"Gentlemen,  if  this  yar  outfit  goes  a-chargin' 
into  that  bunch  of  Injuns,  them  Injuns  aforesaid  is 
sure  goin'  to  shoot  at  us,  and  we  are  naturally  goin* 
to  shoot  back  at  them.  Then,  gentlemen,  there  will 
be  a  fight,  they  will  get  a  bunch  of  us,  and  we  will \ 
wipe  them  out.  Now,  our 
esteemed  friend  yer,  Mr. 
Chick-chick,  savvies  In- 
juns, as  you  know,  he  bein' 
somewhat  their  way  hisself 
—  allows  that  they  will 
chill  that  poor  little  boy 
with  a  knife  the  first  rattle 
out  of  the  box.  So,  gentle- 
men, what  good  does  it  all 
do  ?  Now,  gentlemen,  I 
allows  if  you  all  will  keep  ^he  chairman. 

down  yer  under  the  hill  and  back  our  play.  Chick- 
chick  and  me  will  go  into  that  camp  and  get  the 
boy  alive.  If  these  Injuns  rub  us  out,  it's  your  move. 
All  what  agrees  to  this  motion  will  signify  it  by 
gettin'  down  off'en  their  horses." 

Slowly  man  after  man  swung  to  the  ground. 
Some  did  not  so  readily  agree,  but  they  were  finally 
argued  off  their  horses.  Whereat  the  big  chairman 
sang  out:  "The  ayes  have  it.  Come  on,  Mr.  Chick- 
chick." 

These  two  rode  up  the  hill  and  over  the  mesa, 
trotting  along  as  they  talked.  "  Now,  Chick-chick, 
I  don't  know  a  heap  about  Injuns.     The  most  that  I 


6  JOHN   ERMINE 

have  seen  of  them  was  over  the  sights  of  a  rifle. 
How  are  we  goin'  at  this?  Do  you  habla  Crow 
lingo,  Sefior?" 

"  No,"  replied  that  much  mixed-blooded  man,  "  I 
no  cumtux  Crow,  but  I  make  the  hand  talk,  and  I  can 
clean  up  a  ten-ass  Chinook ;  all  you  do  is  to  do  noth- 
ing, —  you  no  shake  hands,  you  say  nothing,  until  we 
smoke  the  pipe,  then  you  say  *  How  ? '  and  shake 
hands  all  same  white  man.  You  hang  on  to  your  gun 
—  suppose  they  try  take  it  away  —  well,  den,  icta- 
nica-iicki,  you  shoot !  Then  we  are  dead."  Having 
laid  his  plan  of  campaign  before  his  brother  in  arms, 
no  more  was  said.  History  does  not  relate  what  was 
thought  about  it. 

They  arrived  in  due  course  among  the  tepees  of 
a  small  band  of  Crows.  There  were  not  probably  a 
hundred  warriors  present,  but  they  were  all  armed, 
horsed,  and  under  considerable  excitement.  These 
Crows  were  at  war  with  all  the  other  tribes  of  the 
northern  plains,  but  maintained  a  truce  with  the  white 
man.  They  had  very  naturally  been  warned  of  the 
unusual  storm  of  horsemen  bearing  in  their  direction, 
and  were  apprehensive  concerning  it.  They  scowled 
at  the  chairman  and  Mr.  Chick-chick,  who  was  an 
Oregon  product,  as  they  drew  up.  The  latter  began 
his  hand-language,  which  was  answered  at  great 
length.  He  did  not  at  once  calm  the  situation,  but 
was  finally  invited  to  smoke  in  the  council  lodge. 
The  squaws  were  pulling  down  the  tepees;  roping, 
bundling,  screaming,  hustling  ponies,  children,  and 


VIRGINIA   CITY  7 

dogs  about,  unsettling  the  statesmen's  nerves  mightily 
as  they  passed  the  pipe.  The  big  chairman  began 
to  fancy  the  Indians  he  had  seen  through  the  sights 
more  than  these  he  was  regarding  over  the  pipe  of 
peace.  Chick-chick  gesticulated  the  proposition  that 
the  white  papoose  be  brought  into  the  tent,  where  he 
could  be  seen. 

The  Indians  demurred,  saying  there  was  no  white 
boy  —  that  all  in  the  camp  were  Crows.  A  young 
warrior  from  outside  broke  into  their  presence,  talk- 
ing in  a  loud  tone.  An  old  chief  looked  out  through 
the  entrance-flap,  across  the  yellow  plains.  Turning, 
he  inquired  what  the  white  horsemen  were  doing 
outside. 

He  was  told  that  they  wanted  the  white  boy;  that 
the  two  white  chiefs  among  them  would  take  the  boy 
and  go  in  peace,  or  that  the  others  would  come  and 
take  him  in  war.  Also,  Chick-chick  intimated  that 
he  must  klat-a-way.  The  Indians  made  it  plain  that 
he  was  not  going  to  klat-a-way ;  but  looking  abroad, 
they  became  more  alarmed  and  excited  by  the  cordon 
of  whites  about  them. 

**When  the  sun  is  so  high,"  spoke  Chick-chick, 
pointing,  and  using  the  sign  language,  "if  we  do  not 
go  forth  with  the  boy,  the  white  men  will  charge  and 
kill  all  the  Crows.  One  white  boy  is  not  worth  that 
much." 

After  more  excitement  and  talk,  a  youngish  woman 
came,  bearing  a  child  in  her  arms,  which  was  bawling 
and  .tear-stained,  —  she  vociferating  wildly  the  time. 


8  JOHN   ERMINE 

Taking  the  unmusical  youngster  by  the  arm,  the  old 
chief  stood  him  before  Chick-chick.  The  boy  was 
near  nine  years  of  age,  the  men  judged,  white  beyond 
question,  with  long,  golden  hair  braided,  Indian 
fashion,  down  the  sides  of  his  head.  He  was  neatly 
clothed  in  dressed  buckskins,  fringed  and  beaded, 
and  not  naked  or  half  naked,  as  most  Indian  boys 
are  in  warm  weather.  It  was  not  possible  to  tell 
what  his  face  looked  like  in  repose,  for  it  was  kneaded 
into  grotesque  lumps  by  his  cries  and  wailing. 

"He  is  a  Crow;  his  skin  is  white,  but  his  heart 
is  Absaroke.  It  makes  us  bleed  to  see  him  go ;  our 
women  will  mourn  all  this  snow  for  him,  but  to  save 
my  band  I  give  him  to  you.  Take  him.  He  is 
yours." 

Chick-chick  lifted  the  child  in  his  arms,  where  the 
small  cause  of  all  the  turmoil  struggled  and  pulled 
hair  until  he  was  forced  to  hold  him  out  at  arm's 
length.  Mounting,  they  withdrew  toward  their 
friends.  The  council  tepee  fell  in  the  dirt — a 
dozen  squaws  tugging  at  its  voluminous  folds.  The 
small  hostage  was  not  many  yards  on  his  way  toward 
his  own  kind  before  the  Indian  camp  moved  off 
toward  the  mountains,  urging  their  horses  with  whip 
and  lance.  This  movement  was  accelerated  by  a 
great  discharging  of  white  men's  guns,  who  were 
supposed  to  be  sacrificing  the  little  white  Crow  to 
some  unknown  passions ;  whereas,  they  were  merely 
celebrating  the  advent  of  the  white  child  unharmed. 
He  was  indeed  unharmed  as  to  body,  but  his  feelings 


VIRGINIA   CITY  9 

had  been  torn  to  shreds.  He  added  his  small,  shrill 
protesting  yells  to  the  general  rejoicing. 

Chick-chick,  or  Chickens,  as  the  miners  often 
called  him,  had  not  entered  the  expedition  because 
of  his  love  for  children,  or  the  color  of  this  one  in 
particular;  so,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  chairman,  it 
was  turned  over  to  a  benevolent  saloon-keeper,  who 
had  nine  notches  in  his  gun,  and  a  woman  with  whom 
he  abided.  ''Gold  Nugget,"  as  he  was  promptly 
named  by  the  diggers  and  freighters,  was  supposed 
to  need  a  woman,  as  it  was  adjudged  that  only  such 
a  one  could  induce  him  to  turn  off  the  hot  water  and 
cease  his  yells. 

The  cavalcade  reached  town,  to  find  multitudes  of 
dirt-begrimed  men  thronging  the  streets  waiting  for 
what  sensation  there  was  left  in  the  affair.  The 
infant  had  been  overcome  by  his  exertions  and  was 
silent.  They  sat  him  on  the  bar  of  his  godfather's 
saloon,  while  the  men  shouldered  their  brawny  way 
through  the  crowd  to  have  a  look  at  him  —  the  lost 
white  child  in  the  Indian  dress.  Many  drinks  and 
pistol  shots  were  offered  up  in  his  honor,  and  he 
having  recovered  somewhat,  resumed  his  vocal  pro- 
tests. These  plaints  having  silenced  the  crowd,  it 
was  suggested  by  one  man  who  was  able  to  restrain 
his  enthusiasm,  that  the  kid  ought  to  be  turned  over 
to  some  woman  before  he  roared  his  head  off. 

Acting  on  this  suggestion,  the  saloon-keeper's 
female  friend  was  given  charge.  Taking  him  to  her 
Httle  house  back  of  the  saloon,  the  child  found  milk 


lo  JOHN   ERMINE 

and  bread  and  feminine  caresses  to  calm  him  until 
he  slept.  It  was  publicly  proclaimed  by  the  nine- 
notch  saloon-keeper  that  the  first  man  who  passed 
the  door  of  the  kid's  domicile  would  be  number  ten 
to  his  gun.  This  pronunciamiento  insured  much 
needed  repose  to  Gold  Nugget  during  the  night. 

In  the  morning  he  was  partially  recovered  from 
fears  and  tears.  The  women  patted  his  face,  fed 
him  to  bursting,  fingered  the  beautiful  plaits  of  his 
yellow  hair,  and  otherwise  showed  that  they  had  not 
surrendered  all  their  feminine  sensibilities  to  their 
tumultuous  lives.  They  spoke  to  him  in  pleading 
voices,  and  he  gurgled  up  his  words  of  reply  in  the 
unknown  tongue.  The  saloon-keeper's  theory  that 
it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  set  him  up  on  the  bar 
some  more  in  order  to  keep  trade,  was  voted  both 
inhuman  and  impracticable  by  the  women.  Later 
in  the  day  a  young  man  managed  to  get  on  the 
youngster's  blind  side,  when  by  blandishments  he 
beguiled  him  on  to  his  pony  in  front  of  him.  Thus 
he  rode  slowly  through  the  streets,  to  the  delight  of 
the  people,  who  responded  to  Gold  Nugget's  prog- 
ress by  volley  and  yell.  This  again  frightened  him, 
and  he  clung  desperately  to  his  new  friend,  who  by 
waving  his  arm  stilled  the  tempest  of  Virginia  City's 
welcome,  whereat  the  young  man  shouted,  "  Say — 
do  you  think  this  kid  is  runnin'  for  sheriff  ? " 

The  Gulch  voted  the  newcomer  the  greatest  thing 
that  ever  happened;  took  him  into  partnership, 
speculated   on   his   previous   career,  and   drank   his 


VIRGINIA  CITY  n 

health.  Above  all  they  drank  his  health.  Unitedly 
they  drank  to  his  weird  past,  —  his  interesting  pres- 
ent, and  to  his  future  Hfe  and  happiness,  far  into 
the  night.  It  was  good  for  business,  said  the  saloon- 
keepers one  to  another. 

On  one  of  the  same  mountain  winds  which  had 
heralded  his  coming  was  borne  down  the  Gulch  next 
morning  the  tragic  words,  "  The  kid  has  gone !  " 

"  Gone } "  said  the  miners ;  "  gone  whar  .-* " 

Alder  promptly  dropped  its  pick,  buckled  on  its 
artillery,  and  assembled  before  the  nine-notch  man. 
"Where  has  the  kid  gone  .-* "  it  demanded. 

His  woman  stood  beside  the  bar,  wild-eyed  and 
dishevelled.  "I  don't  know,  gentlemen  —  I  don't 
have  an  idea.  He  was  playing  by  the  door  of  my 
shack  last  evening.  I  went  in  the  house  for  a  minute, 
and  when  I  came  out  he  was  gone.  I  yelled,  and 
men  came,  but  we  could  not  find  him  hide  or  hair." 

"  If  any  man  has  got  that  kid  away  from  me,  — 
mind  you  this  now,  —  he  will  see  me  through  the 
smoke,"  spoke  nine-notch,  as  he  rolled  his  eye  malev- 
olently for  a  possible  reply. 

Long  search  and  inquiry  failed  to  clear  matters. 
The  tracks  around  the  house  shed  no  new  light. 
The  men  wound  their  way  to  their  cabins  up  and 
down  the  Gulch,  only  answering  inquiries  by,  "  The 
kid  is  gone." 


CHAPTER  II 

WHITE   WEASEL 

OR  many  days  the  Absaroke  trotted 
and  bumped  along,  ceaselessly 
beating  their  ponies'  sides  with 
their  heels,  and  lashing  with  their 
elk-horn  whips.  With  their  packs 
and  travoix  they  could  not  move 
fast,  but  they  made  up  for  this 
by  long  hours  of  industrious  plod- 
ding. An  Indian  is  never  struck  without  striking 
back,  and  his  counter  always  comes  when  not  ex- 
pected. They  wanted  to  manoeuvre  their  women  and 
children,  so  that  many  hills  and  broad  valleys  would 
lie  between  them  and  their  vengeance  when  it  should 
be  taken.  Through  the  deep  canons,  among  the  dark 
pine  trees,  out  across  the  bold  table-lands,  through 
the  rivers  of  the  mountains,  wound  the  long  cavalcade, 
making  its  way  to  the  chosen  valley  of  Crowland, 
where  their  warriors  mustered  in  numbers  to  secure 
them  from  all  thought  of  fear  of  the  white  men. 

The  braves  burned  for  vengeance  on  the  white 
fools  who  dug  in  the  Gulch  they  were  leaving  be- 
hind, but  the  yellow-eyed  people  were  all  brothers. 


WHITE   WEASEL  13 

To  strike  the  slaves  of  the  gravel-pits  would  be  to 
make  trouble  with  the  river-men,  who  brought  up  the 
powder  an(>  guns  in  boats  every  green-grass.  The 
tribal  policy  was  against  such  a  rupture.  The  Crows, 
or  Sparrowhawks  as  they  called  themselves,  were 
already  encompassed  by  their  enemies,  and  only  able 
by  the  most  desperate  endeavors  to  hold  their  own 
hunting-grounds  against  the  Blackfeet,  Sioux,  and 
Cheyennes.  Theirs  was  the  pick  and  choosing  of 
the  northern  plains.  Neither  too  hot  nor  too  cold, 
well  watered  and  thickly  grassed  on  the  plains, 
swarming  with  buffalo,  while  in  the  winter  they  could 
retire  to  the  upper  valleys  of  the  Big  Horn  River, 
where  they  were  shut  in  by  the  impassable  snow-clad 
mountains  from  foreign  horse  thieves,  and  where  the 
nutritious  salt-weed  kept  their  ponies  in  condition. 
Like  all  good  lands,  they  could  only  be  held  by  a 
strong  and  brave  people,  who  were  made  to  fight 
constantly  for  what  they  held.  The  powder  and 
guns  could  only  be  had  from  the  white  traders,  so 
they  made  a  virtue  of  necessity  and  held  their  hand. 

Before  many  days  the  squaw  Ba-cher-hish-a  rode 
among  the  lodges  with  little  White  Weasel  sitting 
behind  her,  dry-eyed  and  content. 

Alder  had  lost  Gold  Nugget,  but  the  Indians  had 
White  Weasel  —  so  things  were  mended. 

His  foster-mother — the  one  from  whom  the  chief 
had  taken  him  —  had  stayed  behind  the  retreating 
camp,  stealing  about  unseen.  She  wore  the  wolf- 
skin over  her  back,  and  in  those  days  no  one  paid 


14  JOHN   ERMINE 

any  attention  to  a  wolf.  In  the  dusk  of  evening  she 
had  lain  near  the  shack  where  her  boy  was  housed, 
and  at  the  first  opportunity  she  had  seized  him  and 
fled.  He  did  not  cry  out  when  her  warning  hiss 
struck  native  tones  on  his  ear.  Mounting  her  pony, 
she  had  gained  the  scouts,  which  lay  back  on  the 
Indian  trail.  The  hat-weavers  (white  men)  should 
know  White  Weasel  no  more. 

The  old  men  Nah-kee  and  Umbas-a-hoos  sat  smok- 
ing over  their  talk  in  the  purple  shade  of  a  tepee. 
Idly  noting  the  affairs  of  camp,  their  eyes  fell  on 
groups  of  small  urchins,  which  were  scampering  about 
engaging  each  other  in  mimic  war.  They  shot  blunt- 
headed  arrows,  while  other  tots  returned  the  fire  from 
the  vantage  of  lariated  ponies  or  friendly  tepees. 
They  further  observed  that  little  White  Weasel,  by 
his  activity,  fierce  impulse,  and  mental  excellence,  was 
admittedly  leading  one  of  these  diminutive  war-par- 
ties. He  had  stripped  off  his  small  buckskin  shirt, 
and  the  milk-white  skin  glared  in  the  sunlight ;  one 
little  braid  had  become  undone  and  flowed  in  golden 
curls  about  his  shoulders.  In  childish  screams  he 
urged  his  group  to  charge  the  other,  and  running 
forth  he  scattered  all  before  his  insistent  assault. 

"See,  brother,"  spoke  Nah-kee,  "the  little  white 
Crow  has  been  struck  in  the  face  by  an  arrow,  but 
he  does  not  stop." 

"Umph  —  he  will  make  a  warrior,"  replied  the 
other,  his  features  relaxing  into  something  approach- 
ing kindliness.     The  two  old  men  understood  what 


WHITE  WEASEL 


15 


they  saw  even  if  they  had  never  heard  of  the  **  Gothic 

self-abandonment"    which   was   the    inheritance    of 

White  Weasel.     "He  may  be  a  war-chief  —  he  leads 

the  boys  even  now,  before  he  is  big  enough  to  climb 

up'  the  fore  leg  of  a  pony  to 

get  on  its  back.     The  arrow 

in  his  face  did  not  stop  him. 

These    white      men    cannot 

endure  pain  as  we  do ;  they 

bleat  like  a  deer  under  the 

knife.    Do  you  remember  the 

one  we  built  the  fire  on  three 

grasses  ago  over  by  the  Big 

Muddy  when   Eashdies  split 

his  head  with  a  battle-axe  to 

stop  his  noise  ?    Brother,  little 

White  Weasel  is  a  Crow." 

*'  It  is  so,"  pursued  the 
other  veteran ;  "  these  yellow- 
eyes  are  only  fit  to  play 
badger  in  a  gravel-pit  or 
harness  themselves  to  loaded 
boats,  which  pull  powder  and 
lead  up  the  long  river.    They 

walk  all  one  green-grass  beside  their  long-horned 
buffalo,  hauling  their  tepee  wagons  over  the  plains. 
If  it  were  not  for  their  medicine  goods,  we  would 
drive  them  far  away." 

"  Yes,  brother,  they  are  good  for  us.      If  we  did 
not  have  their  powder  and  guns,  the  Cut-Throats 


A  Crow. 


i6  JOHN    ERMINE 

[Sioux]  and  the  Cut-Arms  [Cheyennes]  would  soon 
put  the  Absaroke  fires  out.  We  must  step  carefully 
and  keep  our  eyes  open  lest  the  whites  again  see 
White  Weasel ;  and  if  these  half-Indian  men  about 
camp  talk  to  the  traders  about  him,  we  will  have  the 
camp  soldiers  beat  them  with  sticks.  The  white 
traders  would  take  our  powder  away  from  us  unless 
we  gave  him  to  them." 

"  We  could  steal  him  again,  brother." 

"Yes,  if  they  did  not  send  him  down  the  long 
river  in  a  boat.  Then  he  would  go  so  far  toward  the 
morning  that  we  should  never  pass  our  eyes  over  him 
again  on  this  side  of  the  Spiritland.  We  need  him  to 
fill  the  place  of  some  warrior  who  will  be  struck  by 
the  enemy." 

Seeing  the  squaw  Ba-cher-hish-a  passing,  they 
called  to  her  and  said :  "  When  there  are  any  white 
men  around  the  camps,  paint  the  face  of  your  little 
son  White  Weasel,  and  fill  his  hair  with  wood  ashes. 
If  you  are  careful  to  do  this,  the  white  men  will  not 
notice  him ;  you  will  not  have  to  part  with  him  again." 

"What  you  say  is  true,"  spoke  the  squaw,  "but 
I  cannot  put  black  ashes  in  his  eyes."  She  departed, 
nevertheless,  glorious  with  the  new  thought. 

Having  fought  each  other  with  arrows  until  it  no 
longer  amused  them,  the  foes  of  an  idle  hour  ran 
away  together  down  by  the  creek,  where  they  dis- 
robed by  a  process  neatly  described  by  the  white 
men's  drill  regulations,  which  say  a  thing  shall  be 
done  in  "  one  time  and  two  motions." 


WHITE   WEASEL  17 

White  Weasel  was  more  complicated  than  his  fel- 
lows by  reason  of  one  shirt,  which  he  promptly 
skinned  off.  "  See  the  white  Crow,"  gurgled  a  small 
savage,  as  every  eye  turned  to  our  hero.  "  He  always 
has  the  war-paint  on  his  body.  He  is  always  painted 
like  the  big  men  when  they  go  to  strike  the  enemy  — 
he  is  red  all  over.     The  war-paint  is  in  his  skin." 

"  Now,  let  us  be  buffalo,"  spoke  one,  answered  by 
others,  "Yes,  let  us  be  buffalo."  Accordingly,  in 
true  imitation  of  what  to  them  was  a  famihar  sight, 
they  formed  in  line.  White  Weasel  at  the  head  as 
usual.  Bending  their  bodies  forward  and  swinging 
their  heads,  they  followed  down  to  the  water,  throw- 
ing themselves  flat  in  the  shallows.  Now  they  were 
no  longer  buffalo,  but  merely  small  boys  splashing 
about  in  the  cool  water,  screaming  incoherently  and 
as  nearly  perfectly  happy  as  nature  ever  intended 
human  beings  to  be.  After  a  few  minutes  of  this, 
the  humorist  among  them,  the  ultra-imaginative  one, 
stood  up  pointing  dramatically,  and,  simulating  fear, 
yelled,  "  Here  comes  the  bad  water  monster,"  whereat 
with  shrill  screams  and  much  splashing  the  score  of 
little  imps  ran  ashore  and  sat  down,  grinning  at  their 
half -felt  fear.  The  water  monster  was  quite  real  to 
them.  Who  could  say  one  might  not  appear  and 
grab  a  laggard } 

After  this  they  ran  skipping  along  the  river  bank, 
quite  naked,  as  purposeless  as  birds,  until  they  met 
two  old  squaws  dipping  water  from  the  creek  to 
carry  home.     With  hue  and  cry  they  gathered  about 


i8  JOHN   ERMINE 

them,  darting  like  quick-motioned  wolves  around 
worn-out  buffalo.  "  They  are  buffalo,  and  we  are 
wolves,"  chorussed  the  infant  band ;  "  bite  them ! 
blind  them  !  We  are  wolves  !  we  will  eat  them  !  " 
They  plucked  at  their  garments  and  threw  dirt 
over  them  in  childish  glee.  The  old  women  snarled 
at  their  persecutors  and  caught  up  sticks  to  defend 
themselves.  It  was  beginning  to  look  rather  serious 
for  the  supposed  buffalo,  when  a  young  warrior  came 
riding  down,  his  pony  going  silently  in  the  soft  dirt. 
Comprehending  the  situation,  and  being  fairly  among 
them,  he  dealt  out  a  few  well-considered  cuts  with 
his  pony-whip,  which  changed  the  tune  of  those  who 
had  felt  its  contact.  They  all  ran  off,  some  holding 
on  to  their  smarts  —  scattering  away  much  as  the 
wolves  themselves  might  have  done  under  such  con- 
ditions. 

Indian  boys  are  very  much  like  white  boys  in 
every  respect,  except  that  they  are  subject  to  no 
restraint,  and  carry  their  mischievousness  to  all 
bounds.  Their  ideas  of  play  being  founded  on  the 
ways  of  things  about  them,  they  are  warriors,  wild 
animals,  horses,  and  the  hunters,  and  the  hunted  by 
turns.  Bands  of  these  little  Crows  scarcely  past 
toddling  ranged  the  camp,  keeping  dogs,  ponies,  and 
women  in  a  constant  state  of  unrest.  Occasional 
justice  was  meted  out  to  them  with  a  pony-whip, 
but  in  proportions  much  less  than  their  deserts. 

Being  hungry.  White  Weasel  plodded  home  to  his 
mother's  lodge,  and   finding  a  buffalo   rib   roasting 


WHITE  WEASEL  19 

near  the  fire  he  appropriated  it.  It  was  nearly  as 
large  as  himself,  and  when  he  had  satisfied  his 
appetite,  his  face  and  hands  were  most  appallingly 
greased.  Seeing  this,  his  mother  wiped  him  off,  but 
not  as  thoroughly  as  his  condition  called  for,  it 
must  be  admitted.  Falling  back  on  a  buffalo  robe, 
little  Weasel  soon  fell  into  a  deep  slumber,  during 
which  a  big  dog  belonging  to  the  tent  made  play  to 
complete  the  squaw's  washing,  by  licking  all  the 
grease  from  his  face  and  hands. 

In  due  course  he  arose  refreshed  and  ready  for 
more  mischief.  The  first  opportunity  which  pre- 
sented itself  was  the  big  dog,  which  was  sleeping 
outside.  "  He  is  a  young  pony ;  I  will  break  him 
to  bear  a  man,"  said  Weasel  to  himself.  Straight- 
way he  threw  himself  on  the  pup,  grasping  firmly 
with  heel  and  hand.  The  dog  rose  suddenly  with 
a  yell,  and  nipped  one  of  Weasel's  legs  quite  hard 
enough  to  bring  his  horse-breaking  to  a  finish  with 
an  answering  yell.  The  dog  made  off,  followed  by 
hissing  imprecations  from  Ba-cher-hish-a,  who  rubbed 
the  little  round  leg  and  crooned  away  his  tears.  He 
was  not  long  depressed  by  the  incident. 

Now  all  small  Indian  boys  have  a  regard  for 
prairie-dog  or  marmot's  flesh,  which  is  akin  to  the 
white  boy's  taste  for  candy  balls  and  cream  paste. 
In  order  to  satisfy  it  the  small  Indian  must  lie  out 
on  the  prairie  for  an  hour  under  the  broiling  sun, 
and  make  a  sure  shot  in  the  bargain.  The  white 
boy   has    only    to    acquire    five    cents,    yet    in    the 


20  JOHN   ERMINE 

majority  of  cases  that  too  is  attended  by  almost 
overwhelming  difficulties. 

With  three  other  boys  White  Weasel  repaired  to 
the  adjoining  dog-town,  and  having  located  from 
cover  a  fat  old  marmot  whose  hole  was  near  the 
outskirts  of  the  village,  they  each  cut  a  tuft  of 
grease-weed.  Waiting  until  he  had  gone  inside, 
they  ran  forward  swiftly  and  threw  themselves  on 
the  ground  behind  other  dog  mounds,  putting  up 
the  grease-weed  in  front  of  themselves.  With  shrill 
chirping,  all  the  marmots  of  this  colony  dived  into 
their  holes  and  gave  the  desert  over  to  silence. 
After  a  long  time  marmots  far  away  from  them 
came  out  to  protest  against  the  intrusion.  An  old 
Indian  warrior  sitting  on  a  near-by  bluff,  nursing 
morose  thoughts,  was  almost  charmed  into  good 
nature  by  the  play  of  the  infant  hunters  below  him. 
He  could  remember  when  he  had  done  this  same 
thing  —  many,  many  grasses  ago.  More  grasses 
than  he  could  well  remember. 

The  sun  had  drawn  a  long  shadow  before  the  fat 
marmot  showed  his  head  above  the  level  of  his  in- 
trenchments  —  his  fearful  little  black  eyes  set  and 
his  ears  straining.  Three  other  pairs  of  black  eyes 
and  one  pair  of  blue  ones  snapped  at  him  from 
behind  the  grease-weed.  There  followed  a  long  wait, 
after  which  the  marmot  jumped  up  on  the  dirt  rim 
which  surrounded  his  hole,  and  there  waited  until  his 
patience  gave  out.  With  a  sharp  bark  and  a  wig- 
gling of  his  tail  he  rolled  out  along  the  plain,  a  small 


WHITE   WEASEL  21 

ball  of  dusty  fur.  To  the  intent  gaze  of  the  nine- 
year-olds  he  was  much  more  important  than  can  be 
explained  from  this  view-point. 

Having  judged  him  sufficiently  far  from  his  base, 
the  small  hunters  sprang  to  their  knees,  and  drove 
their  arrows  with  all  the  energy  of  soft  young  arms 
at  the  quarry.  The  marmot  made  a  gallant  race,  but 
an  unfortunate  blunt-head  caught  him  somewhere  and 
bowled  him  over.  Before  he  could  recover,  the  boys 
were  upon  him,  and  his  stage  had  passed. 

Carrying  the  game  and  followed  by  his  compan- 
ions. Weasel  took  it  home  to  his  foster-mother,  who 
set  to  skinning  it,  crooning  as  she  did  in  the  repeated 
sing-song  of  her  race  :  — 

"  My  son  is  a  little  hunter, 
My  son  is  a  little  hunter, 
Some  day  the  buffalo  will  fear  him, 
Some  day  the  buffalo  will  fear  him. 
Some  day  the  buffalo  will  fear  him," 

and  so  on  throughout  the  Indian  list  until  the  marmot 
was  ready  for  cooking. 

So  ran  the  young  life  of  the  white  Crow.  While 
the  sun  shone,  he  chased  over  the  country  with  his 
small  fellows,  shooting  blunt  arrows  at  anything  liv- 
ing of  which  they  were  not  afraid.  No  one  corrected 
him ;  no  one  made  him  go  to  bed  early ;  no  one 
washed  him  but  the  near-by  brook ;  no  one  bothered 
him  with  stories  about  good  little  boys ;  in  fact, 
whether  he  was  good  or  bad  had  never  been  indi- 
cated  to   him.     He  was  as  all  Crow  boys  are  —  no 


22  JOHN   ERMINE 

better  and  no  worse.  He  shared  the  affections  of 
his  foster-parents  with  several  natural  offspring,  and 
shared  in  common,  though  the  camp  took  a  keen  in- 
terest in  so  unusual  a  Crow.  Being  by  nature  bright 
and  engaging,  he  foraged  on  every  camp  kettle,  and 
made  the  men  laugh  as  they  lounged  in  the  after- 
noon shade,  by  his  absurd  imitations  of  the  war  and 
scalp  dances,  which  he  served  up  seriously  in  his 
infant  way. 

Any  white  man  could  see  at  a  glance  that  White 
Weasel  was  evolved  from  a  race  which,  however 
remote  from  him,  got  its  yellow  hair,  fair  skin,  and 
blue  eyes  amid  the  fjords,  forests,  rocks,  and  ice-floes 
of  the  north  of  Europe.  The  fierce  sun  of  lower  lati- 
tudes had  burned  no  ancestor  of  Weasel's ;  their 
skins  had  been  protected  against  cold  blasts  by  the 
hides  of  animals.  Their  yellow  hair  was  the  same  as 
the  Arctic  bear's,  and  their  eyes  the  color  of  new  ice. 
Little  Weasel's  fortunes  had  taken  him  far  afield. 
He  was  born  white,  but  he  had  a  Crow  heart,  so  the 
tribesmen  persuaded  themselves.  They  did  not  under- 
stand the  laws  of  heredity.  They  had  never  hunted 
those. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   COMING   OF   THE   GREAT   SPIRIT 

WITH  the  years  White  Weasel  spindled  up 
into  a  youth  whose   legs  quite   naturally 
fitted  around  the  barrel  of  a  horse.     He 
no  longer  had  to  climb  up  the  fore  leg  of  a  camp- 
pony,  but  could  spring  on  to  those  that  ran  in  his 
father's  herd  and  maintain  his  position  there. 

Having  observed  this,  one  night  his  foster-father 
said  to  him :  **  You  are  old  enough,  my  son,  to  be 
trusted  with  my  ponies  out  in  the  hills.  You  must 
begin  to  study  the  ponies,  or  you  will  never  be  able 
to  take  or  hold  any  of  your  own.  Not  to  have  horses 
is  not  to  hunt  buffalo  or  go  to  the  enemy,  and  not  to 
have  a  wife.  Go,  then,  when  the  morning  comes,  with 
your  brother,  and  watch  my  herd.  See  that  they 
feed  safely;  see  that  by  evening  they  come  to  the 
lodges.  You  are  old  enough  now  to  wear  the  loin- 
cloth ;  you  must  begin  to  be  a  man.  You  will  never 
find  your  shadow-self  here  among  the  noisy  lodges ; 
it  will  only  come  to  you  out  in  the  quiet  of  the  hills. 
The  Bad  Spirits  always  have  their  arms  out  to  clutch 
you  when  you  are  asleep  in  the  night ;  as  you  ride  in 
the  shadows ;  when  you  ford  the  waters,  —  they  come 

23 


24  JOHN   ERMINE 

in  the  wind,  the  rain,  the  snow ;  they  point  the  bullet 
and  the  battle-axe  to  your  breast,  and  they  will  warn 
the  Sioux  when  you  are  coming  after  their  ponies. 
But  out  in  the  hills  the  Sak-a-war-te  ^  will  send  some 
bird  or  some  little  wolf  to  you  as  his  friend;  in 
some  way  he  will  talk  to  you  and  give  a  sign  that  will 
protect  you  from  the  Bad  Gods.  Do  not  eat  food  or 
drink  water ;  pray  to  him,  and  he  will  come  to  you ; 
if  he  does  not,  you  will  be  lost.  You  will  never  see 
the  Spiritland  when  your  body  lies  flat  on  the  ground 
and  your  shadow  has  gone." 

After  saying  this,  his  father's  pipe  died  out,  the 
mother  put  no  more  dry  sticks  on  the  fire,  the  shapes 
along  the  lodge  walls  died  away  in  the  gloom,  and 
left  the  youth  awake  with  a'^new  existence  playing 
through  his  brain.  He  was  to  begin  to  be  a  man. 
Already  he  had  done  in  play,  about  the  camp,  the 
things  which  the  warriors  did  among  the  thundering 
buffalo  herds  ;  he  had  imitated  the  fierce  nervous 
effort  to  take  the  enemy's  life  in  battle  and  the 
wolfish  quest  after  ponies.  He  had  begun  to  take 
notice  of  the  great  difference  between  himself  and  the 
girls  about  the  camp ;  he  had  a  meaning  which  they 
did  not ;  his  lot  was  in  the  field. 

Before  the  sun  rose  he  was  one  of  the  many  noisy 
boys  who  ran  about  among  the  horses,  trailing  his 
lariat  to  throw  over  some  pony  which  he  knew.  By 
a  fortunate  jerk  he  curled  it  about  one's  neck,  the 
shy   creature   crouching   under  its    embracing   fold, 

1  Great  Spirit  of  the  Crows. 


THE   COMING   OF  THE   GREAT   SPIRIT      ^ 

knowing  full  well  the  awful  strangle  which  followed 
opposition.  With  ears  forward,  the  animal  watched 
the  naked  youth,  as  he  slowly  approached  him  along 
the  taut  rope,  saying  softly ;  "  Eh-ah-h-h — um-m-m-um- 
m-m  —  eh-h-h-h-h."  Tying  the  rope  on  the  horse's 
jaw,  with  a  soft  spring  he  fixed  himself  on  its  back, 
tucking  his  loin-cloth  under  him.  Now  he  moved  to 
the  outskirts  of  the  thronging  horses,  crying  softly  to 
them  as  he  and  his  brother  separated  their  father's 
stock  from  that  of  the  neighbor  herds.  He  had  done 
this  before,  but  he  had  never  been  responsible  for  the 
outcome. 

The  faint  rose  of  the  morning  cut  the  trotting  herd 
into  dull  shadowy  forms  against  the  gray  grass,  and 
said  as  plain  as  any  words  could  to  White  Weasel : 
"  I,  the  sun,  will  make  the  grass  yellow  as  a  new  brass 
kettle  from  the  traders.  I  will  make  the  hot  air 
dance  along  the  plains,  and  I  will  chase  every  cloud 
out  of  the  sky.  See  me  come,"  said  the  sun  to 
White  Weasel. 

"  Come,"  thought  the  boy  in  reply,  *'  I  am  a  man.'* 
For  all  Indians  talk  intimately  with  all  things  in 
nature ;  everything  has  life ;  everything  has  to  do 
with  their  own  Hves  personally ;  and  all  nature  can 
speak  as  well  as  any  Crow. 

Zigzagging  behind  the  herd,  they  left  the  smell  of 
smoke,  carrion,  and  other  nameless  evils  of  men 
behind  them,  until  the  bark  of  wolf-dogs  dulled,  and 
was  lost  to  their  ears. 

Daylight  found  the  two  boys   sitting   quietly,  as 


26  JOHN    ERMINE 

they  sped  along  beside  the  herd  of  many-colored 
ponies.  To  look  at  the  white  boy,  with  his  vermil- 
ioned skin,  and  long,  braided  hair,  one  would  expect 
to  hear  the  craunch  and  grind  of  a  procession  of  the 
war-cars  of  ancient  Gaul  coming  over  the  nearest 
hill.  He  would  have  been  the  true  part  of  any  such 
sight. 

"Brother,"  spoke  his  companion,  "we  must  never 
shut  our  eyes.  The  Cut- Arms  are  everywhere ;  they 
come  out  of  the  sky,  they  come  out  of  the  ground  to 
take  our  horses.  You  must  watch  the  birds  floating 
in  the  air;  they  will  speak  to  you  about  the  bad 
Indians,  when  you  learn  their  talk ;  you  must  watch 
the  wolves  and  the  buffalo,  and,  above  all,  the  ante- 
lope. These  any  one  can  understand.  We  must 
not  let  the  ponies  go  near  the  broken  land  or  the 
trees.  The  ponies  themselves  are  fools,  yet,  if  you 
will  watch  them,  you  will  see  them  turn  slowly  away 
from  an  enemy,  and  often  looking  back,  pointing 
with  their  ears.  It  may  be  only  a  bear  which  they 
go  away  from ;  for  the  ponies  are  fools  —  they  are 
afraid  of  everything.  The  grass  has  been  eaten  off 
here  by  these  buffalo,  and  the  ponies  wander.  I  will 
ride  to  the  high  hill,  while  you,  brother,  bring  the 
herd  slowly.  Watch  me,  brother;  I  may  give  the 
sign  of  danger."  Saying  which,  the  older  boy  loped 
gracefully  on  ahead. 

All  day  the  herd  grazed,  or  stood  drooping,  as  the 
sun  made  its  slow  arc  over  the  sky,  while  the  boys 
sat  on   the  ground  in  the   shadows   cast  by  their 


THE   COMING   OF  THE   GREAT   SPIRIT      27 

mounts,  their  eyes  ceaselessly  wandering.  Many 
were  the  mysteries  of  horse-herding  expounded  by 
the  one  to  the  other.  That  the  white  Absaroke  was 
hungry,  it  was  explained,  made  no  difference.  Absa- 
rokes  were  often  hungry  out  in  the  hills.  The  Da- 
kotah  were  worse  than  the  hunger,  and  to  lose  the 
ponies  meant  hunger  in  their  father's  lodge.  This 
shadow-day  herding  was  like  good  dreams ;  wait 
until  the  hail  beat  on  the  ponies'  backs,  and  made 
them  run  before  it ;  wait  until  the  warriors  fought 
about  the  camp,  defending  it ;  then  it  was  hard  work 
to  hold  them  quietly.  Even  when  the  snow  blew  all 
ways  at  the  same  time,  the  Cut-Throats  might  come. 
White  Weasel  found  a  world  of  half-suspected  things 
all  coming  to  him  at  once,  and  gradually  a  realizing 
sense  stole  over  him  that  the  ponies  and  the  eating 
and  the  land  were  very  serious  things,  all  put  here 
for  use  and  trouble  to  the  Absaroke. 

As  the  days  wore  on,  the  birds  and  the  wild  ani- 
mals talked  to  the  boy,  and  he  understood.  When 
they  plainly  hovered,  or  ran  wildly,  he  helped  to 
gather  up  the  ponies  and  start  them  toward  the 
lodges.  If  the  mounted  scouts  came  scurrying  along 
the  land,  with  the  white  dust  in  a  long  trail  behind 
them,  he  headed  for  the  cottonwoods  with  the  herd, 
galloping.  At  times  the  number  of  the  ponies  in  his 
charge  changed,  as  his  father  won  or  lost  at  the  game 
of  "  hand  "  ;  but  after  the  dried-meat  moon  his  father 
had  brought  home  many  new  ponies  from  the  camps 
of  the  Cut-Arms  toward  the  Morning. 


28  JOHN   ERMINE 

His  father  had  often  spoken  praise  of  him  beside 
the  lodge-fire,  and  it  made  him  feel  good.  He  was 
beginning  to  be  a  man,  and  he  was  proud  of  it ;  he 
would  be  a  warrior  some  day,  and  he  would  see  that 
nothing  hurtful  happened  to  his  father's  horses. 

It  was  now  the  month  of  the  cold  moon.^  The 
skies  were  leaden  at  times;  the  snow-laden  winds 
swept  down  from  the  mountains,  and  in  the  morning 
Weasel's  skin  was  blue  and  bloodless  under  his  buf- 
falo-robe when  he  started  out  for  the  hills,  where  the 
wind  had  swept  the  snow  off  from  the  weeds  and 
grass.  Never  mind,  the  sun  of  the  yellow  grass  had 
not  cooked  the  ambition  out  of  him,  and  he  would 
fight  off  the  arrows  of  the  cold. 

His  brother,  being  older,  had  at  last  succumbed  to 
his  thirst  for  glory.  He  had  gone  with  some  other 
boys  to  try  his  fortune  on  other  people's  horses. 
Weasel  was  left  alone  with  the  herd.  His  father 
often  helped  him  to  take  the  ponies  out  to  good 
grazing,  and  then  left  him.  The  Absaroke  had  been 
sore  pressed  by  the  Indians  out  on  the  plains,  and 
had  retired  to  the  Chew-cara-ash-Nitishic  ^  country, 
where  the  salt-weed  grew.  Here  they  could  be 
pushed  no  farther.  Aided  by  the  circling  wall  of 
mountain,  their  own  courage,  and  their  fat  horses, 
they  could  maintain  themselves.  Their  scouts  lay 
far  out,  and  the  camp  felt  as  much  security  as  a  wild 
people  can  ever  feel. 

One  day,  as  usual,  Weasel  had  taken  his  ponies 

1  December.  ^  gjg  Horn  Basin. 


THE   COMING   OF  THE   GREAT   SPIRIT      29 

far  away  to  fresh  feed,  that  near  the  camps  having 
been  eaten  off.  The  day  was  bright,  but  heavy,  dense 
clouds  drifted  around  the  surrounding  mountain-tops, 
and  later  they  crawled  slowly  down  their  sides. 
Weasel  noticed  this  as  he  sat  shivering  in  his  buffalo- 
robe;  also  he  noticed  far  away  other  horse  herds 
moving  slowly  toward  the  Arsha-Nitishic,  along  whose 
waters  lay  the  camp  of  his  people.  He  began  to 
gather  his  ponies  and  rode  circling  about.  They 
acted  wildly  —  strung  out  and  began  to  run.  Glanc- 
ing about,  Weasel  saw  many  big  gray  wolves  loping 
along  in  unison  with  his  charges. 

It  was  not  strange  that  wolves  were  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  Indians.  The  wolves,  the  ravens,  and  the 
Indians  were  brothers  in  blood,  and  all  followed  the 
buffalo  herds  together.  A  lame  or  loose  pony  or  a 
crippled  Indian  often  went  the  way  of  the  wolves,  and 
many  wolves'  hides  passed  over  the  trader's  counter. 
Thus  they  always  got  along  together,  with  the  raven 
last  at  the  feast. 

As  Weasel  turned  his  nervous  eye  about  him,  he 
knew  that  he  had  never  seen  so  many  wolves  before. 
He  had  seen  dozens  and  dozens,  but  not  so  many  as 
these.  They  were  coming  in  nearer  to  the  horses 
—  they  were  losing  their  fear.  The  horses  were 
running  —  heads  up,  and  blowing  with  loud  snorts. 
Weasel's  pony  needed  no  whip;  his  dorsal  action 
was  swift  and  terrific. 

The  wolves  did  not  seem  to  pay  particular  atten- 
tion to  him  —  they  rather  minded  the  herd.     They 


30  JOHN   ERMINE 

gathered  in  great  numbers  at  the  head  of  the  drove. 
Weasel  could  have  veered  off  and  out  of  the  chase. 
He  thought  of  this,  but  his  blue  eyes  opened  bravely 
and  he  rode  along.  A  young  colt,  having  lost  its 
mother,  ran  out  of  the  line  of  horses,  uttering  whin- 
nies. Instantly  a  dozen  gray  forms  covered  its 
body,  which  sank  with  a  shriek,  as  Weasel  flashed 
by. 

The  leading  ponies  stopped  suddenly  and  ran  cir- 
cling, turning  their  tails  to  the  wolves,  kicking  and 
squealing  viciously.  The  following  ones  closed  up 
into  the  compact  mass  of  horses,  and  Weasel  rode, 
last  of  all,  into  the  midst  of  them.  What  had  been 
a  line  of  rushing  horses  two  arrow-flights  long  before, 
was  now  a  closely  packed  mass  of  animals  which 
could  have  been  covered  by  a  lariat.  In  the  middle 
of  the  bunch  sat  Weasel,  with  his  legs  drawn  up  to 
avoid  the  crushing  horses.  It  was  all  very  strange  ; 
it  had  happened  so  quickly  that  he  could  not  com- 
prehend. He  had  never  been  told  about  this.  Were 
they  really  wolves,  or  spirits  sent  by  the  Bad  Gods 
to  destroy  the  boy  and  his  horses  ? 

All  his  waking  hours  had  been  spent  with  the 
ponies ;  he  knew  no  other  world ;  he  had  scarcely 
had  any  other  thoughts.  He  was  with  them  now,  but 
instead  of  his  protecting  them  they  were  protecting 
him.  With  their  tails  turned  toward  the  circling 
mass  of  devil-animals,  they  struck  and  lashed  when 
attacked.  Nothing  was  heard  but  the  snap  of  teeth, 
the  stamp  of  hooves,  the  shrill  squealing  of  horses,  with 


In  the  middle  of  the  bunch  sat  Weasel.' 


•; '  i^ 


THE  COMING  OF  THE   GREAT  SPIRIT      33 

an  occasional  thud  followed  by  a  yelp.  The  depart- 
ing sun  stole  for  a  moment  through  a  friendly  rift  in 
the  clouds,  encrimsoning  the  cold  snow,  and  then  de- 
parted, leaving  the  gray  tragedy  to  the  spirits  of  the 
night. 

The  smoke  eddied  from  the  top  of  the  lodges ;  a 
bright  spark  showed  from  time  to  time  as  some  one 
lifted  an  entrance  flap  ;  the  ponies  huddled  in  the 
dense  bush;  the  dogs  came  out  and  barked  at  the 
wilderness  of  never  ending  plain.  All  was  warmth 
and  light,  friendship,  and  safety,  —  even  the  baying 
wolf-dogs  were  only  defying  the  shades  and  distances 
out  beyond  for  their  own  amusement;  it  was  per- 
functory. 

"  Why  does  not  my  son  come  in  with  the  ponies  ?  " 
asked  the  foster-father  of  his  squaw,  but  she  could 
only  answer,  "Why.?" 

Wrapping  his  robe  about  him,  he  walked  to  the 
edge  of  the  camp  and  stood  long  squinting  across  the 
dusky  land.  He  saw  nothing  to  encourage  him. 
Possibly  the  ponies  had  come  in,  but  why  not  the 
boy.** 

Oh !  that  was  possible !  That  had  happened !  A 
long  walk  failed  to  locate  the  horses.  Then  he  spoke 
to  a  chief,  and  soon  all  was  excitement. 

"  The  little  white  Crow  and  his  horses  have  not 
come  in,"  was  repeated  in  every  lodge. 

"The  Sioux!     The  Sioux!"  spoke  the  echo. 

It  was  too  dark  for  a  search.  "  The  Sioux  "  was 
the  answer  to  every  question,  and  no  one  hunted  the 

D 


34  JOHN   ERMINE 

Sioux  by  night.  They  might  even  now  be  on  the 
outskirts.  Swiftly  the  scouts  made  their  way  to 
the  outposts.  The  warriors  loaded  their  guns,  and 
the  women  put  out  the  fires.  Every  dog  howled 
with  all  the  energy  of  his  emotional  nature.  There 
was  no  sleep  for  the  Absaroke  camp.  It  was  seldom 
that  an  enemy  got  by  the  far-riding  watchers  of  the 
Crow  camps,  but  there  was  always  a  fear.  It  had 
happened. 

Ba-chua-hish-a  sobbed  and  wailed  all  night  in  her 
lodge,  while  the  foster-father  walked  outside,  specu- 
lating endlessly  with  his  friends.  Long  before  day  he 
was  mounted,  and  with  a  small  party  far  on  the  way 
to  the  herd-grounds  which  he  had  chosen  the  day 
before. 

As  the  plain  began  to  unfold  itself  to  their  strain- 
ing eyes,  their  quick  ears  ran  ahead  of  them.  A 
snarling,  a  horse-squealing,  a  curious  medley  of 
sounds,  bore  on  them.  Being  old  men,  they  knew. 
"  It  is  the  wolves,"  said  they,  almost  in  a  chorus. 
Forward  with  a  rush,  a  shrill  yelling,  and  firing, 
swept  the  little  party.  The  sun  strove  mightily  to 
get  over  the  mountains  to  help  them.  They  now 
saw  the  solid  mass  of  horses,  with  the  wolves  scurry- 
ing away  on  all  sides.  A  faint  answering  human 
whoop  came  from  the  body  of  the  beleaguered  horse 
band.  As  the  rescuers  rode  up,  the  ponies  spread 
out  from  each  other.  Relieved  from  the  pressure  of 
the  slimy  fangs,  the  poor  animals  knew  that  men 
were  better  than  wolves.     Some  of  them  were  torn 


THE  COMING  OF  THE   GREAT  SPIRIT      35 

and  bloody  about  the  flanks ;  a  few  lay  still  on  the 
snow  with  their  tendons  cut ;  but  best  of  all  which 
the  Indians  saw  was  little  White  Weasel  sitting  in 
the  midst  of  the  group.  He  allowed  his  robe  to  fall 
from  his  tight  clutch.  The  men  pushed  their  horses 
in  among  the  disintegrating  bunch.  They  saw  that 
the  boy's  Ups  were  without  color,  that  his  arms  hung 
nerveless,  but  that  his  brave,  deep  eyes  were  open, 
and  that  they  showed  no  emotion.  He  had  passed 
the  time  of  fear,  and  he  had  passed  the  time  for  hope, 
long  hours  ago. 

They  lifted  him  from  his  horse,  and  laid  him  on 
the  ground,  covered  with  many  robes,  while  willing 
hands  kneaded  his  marbled  flesh.  A  fire  was  built 
beside  him,  and  the  old  men  marvelled  and  talked. 
It  was  the  time  when  the  gray  wolves  changed  their 
hunting-grounds.  Many  had  seen  it  before.  When 
they  sought  the  lower  country,  many  grasses  ago,  to 
get  away  from  the  snow,  one  had  known  them  to 
eat  a  Crow  who  happened  in  their  way ;  this  when 
he  was  a  boy. 

The  wolves  did  not  always  act  like  this  —  not 
every  snow.  Sudden  bad  storms  in  the  mountains 
had  driven  them  out.  The  horse  herds  must  be  well 
looked  after  for  a  time,  until  the  flood  of  wolves  had 
passed  down  the  valley. 

The  tired  ponies  stood  about  on  the  plain  with 
their  heads  down.  They,  too,  had  become  exhausted 
by  the  all-night  fight.  The  sun  came  back,  warm 
and  clear,  to  see  a  more  cheerful  scene  than  it  had 


36  JOHN   ERMINE 

left.  Little  Weasel  spoke  weakly  to  his  father : 
"  The  Great  Spirit  came  to  me  in  the  night,  father, 
—  the  cold  wind  whispered  to  me  that  White  Weasel 
must  always  carry  a  hoof  of  the  white  stallion  in  his 
medicine-bag.  *  It  is  the  thing  that  will  protect  you,' 
said  the  wind.  The  white  stallion  lies  over  there  — 
cut  down  behind.  Kill  him,  and  give  me  one  of  his 
rear  hooves,  father." 

Accordingly,  the  noble  beast,  the  leader  of  the 
horses  in  battle,  was  reUeved  of  what  was,  at  best, 
useless  suffering,  —  sacrificed  to  the  gods  of  men, 
whom  he  dreaded  less  than  the  wolves,  —  and  his 
wolf-smashing  hoof  did  useful  things  for  many  years 
afterward. 


CHAPTER   IV 

CROOKED-BEAR 

'KITE  WEASEL'S  tough 
body  soon  recovered 
from  the  freezing  night's 
battle  between  the  ani- 
mals. It  had  never 
been  shielded  from 
the  elements,  and  was 
meat  fed.  The  horses 
ate  grass,  because  their 
stomachs  were  so  formed,  but  he  and  the  wolves  ate 
meat.  They  had  the  canines.  In  justice  to  the 
wolves,  it  must  be  said  that  all  three  animals  repre- 
sented in  the  fight  suffered  in  common;  for  if  the 
boy  had  chilled  veins,  and  the  ponies  torn  flanks, 
many  wolves  were  stiffened  out  on  the  prairie  with 
broken  ribs,  smashed  joints  or  jaws,  to  die  of  hunger. 
Nature  brings  no  soup  or  warmth  to  the  creature  she 
finds  helpless. 

The  boy's  spiritual  nature  had  been  exalted  by  the 
knowledge  that  the  Good  God  had  not  only  held  him 
in  His  saving  arms  during  the  long,  cold,  snarling 
night,  but  He  had  guaranteed  his  continual  protection 
and  ultimate  salvation.     That  is  no  small  thing  to 

37 


38  JOHN   ERMINE 

any  person,  but  to  the  wild  man,  ever  in  close  com- 
munion with  the  passing  of  the  flesh,  to  be  on  inti- 
mate terms  with  the  something  more  than  human  is 
a  solace  that  dwellers  in  the  quiescent  towns  are 
deadened  to.  The  boy  was  not  taught  physical  fear, 
but  he  was  taught  to  stand  in  abject  awe  of  things 
his  people  did  not  understand,  and,  in  consequence, 
he  felt  afraid  in  strange  places  and  at  inopportune 
times. 

One  evening,  as  the  family  to  which  White  Weasel 
belonged  sat  about  the  blaze  of  the  split  sticks  in 
their  lodge,  Fire-Bear,  the  medicine-man,  entered, 
and  sat  down  to  smoke  his  talk  with  the  foster- 
father.  Between  the  long  puffs  he  said :  "  Crooked- 
Bear  wants  us  to  bring  the  white  Absaroke  to  him. 
The  hot  winds  have  come  down  the  valley,  and  the 
snow  has  gone,  so  we  can  go  to  the  mountains  the 
next  sun.  Will  you  go  with  me  and  take  the  boy  ? 
The  Absaroke  must  do  as  the  Crooked-Bear  says, 
brother,  or  who  knows  what  may  happen  to  us  ?  The 
old  man  of  the  mountain  is  strong." 

After  blinking  and  smoking  for  a  time  the  foster- 
father  said  :  "The  boy's  and  Crooked-Bear's  skins  are 
of  the  same  color ;  they  are  both  Sparrowhawks  in 
their  hearts.  His  heart  may  be  heavy  out  there 
alone  in  the  mountains  —  he  may  want  us  to  leave 
the  boy  by  his  fire.  Ba-cher-hish-a  would  mourn  if 
this  were  done.  I  fear  to  go,  brother,  but  must  if 
he  ask  it.  We  will  be  ready  when  the  morning 
comes." 


CROOKED-BEAR  39 

When  the  dark  teeth  of  the  eastern  mountains  bit 
into  the  gray  of  approaching  day,  the  two  old  Indians 
and  the  boy  were  trotting  along,  one  behind  the  other. 
The  ponies  sHthered  in  the  pools  and  little  rivulets 
left  by  the  melted  snow,  but  again  taking  the  slow, 
steady,  mountainous,  stiff -legged,  swinging  lope  across 
the  dry  plain,  they  ate  the  flat  miles  up,  as  only  those 
born  on  the  desert  know  how  to  do. 

The  boy  had  often  heard  of  the  great  Crow  medi- 
cine-man up  in  the  mountains  near  where  the  tribe 
hovered.  He  seldom  came  to  their  lodges,  but  the 
Indians  frequently  visited  him.  Weasel  had  never 
seen  him,  for  the  boys  of  the  camp  were  not  permit- 
ted to  go  near  the  sacred  places  where  the  old  man 
was  found.  He  had  requested  this  of  the  chiefs,  and 
the  Absaroke  children  drank  the  mystery  and  fear  of 
him  with  their  mothers'  milk.  He  was  one  of  the 
tribal  institutions,  a  matter  of  course  ;  and  while  his 
body  was  denied  them,  his  advice  controlled  in  the 
council-lodges.     His  were  the  words  from  God. 

Weasel  was  in  the  most  tremendous  frame  of 
mind  about  this  venture.  He  was  divided  between 
apprehension  and  acute  curiosity.  He  had  left  his 
mother  sobbing,  and  the  drawn  face  of  his  father 
served  only  to  tighten  his  nerves.  Why  should  the 
great  man  want  to  see  White  Weasel,  who  was  only 
a  herd-boy }  Was  it  because  his  hair  and  his  eyes 
were  not  the  color  of  other  boys'  .-*  He  was  conscious 
of  this  difference.  He  knew  the  traders  were  often 
red  and  yellow  like  him,  and  not  brown  and  black  as 


40  JOHN   ERMINE 

the  other  people  were.  He  did  not  understand  the 
thing,  however.  No  one  had  ever  said  he  was  any- 
thing else  than  an  Absaroke ;  he  did  not  feel  ottier- 
wise. 

Approaching  the  mountains,  the  travellers  found 
the  snow  again,  and  climbed  more  slowly  along  the 
game-trails.  They  had  blinded  their  path  by  follow- 
ing up  a  brook  which  made  its  way  down  a  coul6e. 
No  one  left  the  road  to  Crooked-Bear's  den  open  to 
the  prowUng  enemy.  That  was  always  understood. 
Hours  of  slow  winding  took  them  high  up  on  the 
mountains,  the  snow  growing  deeper  and  less  trod- 
den by  wild  animals,  until  they  were  among  the  pines. 
Making  their  way  over  fallen  logs,  around  jagged 
boulders,  and  through  dense  thickets,  they  suddenly 
dropped  into  a  small  wooded  valley,  then  up  to  the 
foot  of  the  towering  terraces  of  bare  rock,  checkered 
with  snow,  where  nothing  came  in  winter,  not  even 
the  bighorns. 

Soon  Weasel  could  smell  fire,  then  dogs  barked 
in  the  woods  up  in  front.  Fire-Bear  called  loudly 
in  deep,  harsh  Indian  tones,  and  was  answered  by  a 
man.  Going  forward,  they  came  first  to  the  dogs,  — 
huge,  bold  creatures,  —  bigger  and  different  than  any 
Weasel  had  ever  seen.  Then  he  made  out  the  figure 
of  a  man,  low  in  tone  and  softly  massed  against  the 
snow,  and  beside  him  a  cabin  made  of  logs  set  against 
the  rock  wall. 

This  was  Crooked-Bear.  Weasel's  mind  had 
ceased  to  act ;  only  his  blue  eyes  opened  in  perfect 


CROOKED-BEAR  41 

circles,  seemed  awake  in  him,  and  they  were  fixed  on 
the  man.  The  big  dogs  approached  him  without 
barking,  — a  bad  sign  with  dogs.  Weasel's  mind  did 
not  concern  itself  with  dogs.  In  response  to  strange 
words  from  the  white  medicine-man  they  drew  away. 
Weasel  sat  on  his  pony  while  the  older  men  dis- 
mounted and  greeted  Crooked-Bear.  They  did  not 
shake  hands  —  only  "  hat-wearers  "  did  that.  Why 
should  an  Indian  warrior  lose  the  use  of  his  right 
hand  for  even  an  instant  ?  His  hand  was  only  for  his 
wife  and  children  and  his  knife. 

In  response  to  the  motion  of  his  father's  hand,  the 
boy  slid  off  his  pony.  Taking  him  by  the  shoulder, 
the  father  drew  him  slowly  toward  Crooked-Bear 
until  they  were  directly  in  each  other's  presence. 
Weasel's  eyes  could  open  no  farther.  His  whole 
training  was  that  of  an  Indian.  He  would  not  have 
betrayed  his  feelings  under  any  circumstances;  he 
was  also  a  boy,  and  the  occasion  was  to  him  so 
momentous  that  he  was  receiving  impressions,  not 
giving  them.  A  great  and  abiding  picture  was 
fast  etching  itself  on  his  brain ;  his  spongelike 
child-mind  drank  up  every  drop  of  the  weird  situa- 
tion. 

He  had  seen  a  few  white  men  in  his  life.  He  had 
not  forgotten  Virginia  City,  though  terror  had  robbed 
him  of  his  powers  of  observation  during  that  ordeal. 
He  had  seen  the  traders  at  the  post ;  he  had  seen  the 
few  white  or  half-white  men  who  lived  with  his  peo- 
ple, but  they  were  not  like  this  one. 


42  JOHN   ERMINE 

The  old  man  of  the  mountain^  was  crooked  as 
his  name  implied.  He  also  suggested  a  bear.  He 
looked  rude  even  to  the  Indians.  It  seemed  that 
Nature  had  laid  her  hands  on  his  shoulder  and  tele- 
scoped him  together.  He  was  humpbacked.  His 
arms  and  legs  were  as  other  men's  are,  though  his 
shortened  body  made  his  hands  fall  to  his  knees. 

He  was  dressed  in  Indian  buckskin,  greased  to  a 
shine  and  bronzed  by  smoke.  He  leaned  on  a  long 
breech-loading  rifle,  and  carried  a  huge  knife  and 
revolver  in  his  belt.  His  hat  was  made  of  wolfskin 
after  the  Indian  fashion,  from  underneath  which  fell 
long  brown  hair,  carefully  combed,  in  profuse  masses. 
Seen  closely  he  was  not  old  —  merely  past  middle 
life.  His  strong  features  were  weather-stained  and 
care-hardened.  They  were  sculptured  with  many  an 
insistent  dig  by  Nature,  the  great  artist;  she  had 
gouged  deep  under  the  brows;  she  had  been  lavish 
in  the  treatment  of  the  nose ;  she  had  cut  the  tiger 
lines  fearlessly,  but  she  had  covered  the  mouth  and 
lost  the  lower  face  in  a  bush  of  beard.  More  closely, 
the  whole  face  was  open,  the  eyes  mild,  and  all  about 
it  was  reposeful  —  sad  resolution  dominated  by  a  dome 

1  Old  timers  in  Montana  may  remember  a  deformed  man  of  wild 
mien  and  picturesque  apparel  who  used  to  come  into  the  mountain 
towns  (there  were  none  on  the  plains  then)  at  rare  intervals  to  do  a 
little  trading,  with  gold  dust  in  payment.  He  would  then  depart  for 
the  Indian  country,  which  was  almost  totally  unknown  to  the  mining 
people,  and  was  often  followed  as  far  as  white  men  dared  to  go.  He 
was  always  a  mystery.  The  Indians  had  driven  the  old  trapping-men 
from  the  country,  upon  the  approach  of  the  white  tide,  and  as  yet  the 
buffalo-hunter  and  cow-boy  had  not  made  their  appearance. 


CROOKED-BEAR  43 

of  brain.  Weasel  warmed  under  the  gaze  of  the 
kind  face  —  the  eyes  said  nothing  but  good;  they 
did  more  than  that :  they  compelled  him  to  step  for- 
ward toward  the  strange  figure,  who  put  his  hand  on 
Weasel's  shoulder  and  led  him  tenderly  in  the 
direction  of  the  cabin  door.  Weasel  had  lost  his 
fear  and  regained  the  use  of  his  mind. 

As  the  men  stooped  almost  on  hands  and  knees 
to  enter  the  den  of  Crooked-Bear,  they  were  greeted 
by  the  acrid  smell  of  smouldering  ashes,  and  probably 
by  other  odors  native  to  their  noses.  Crooked-Bear 
stirred  the  ashes  and  laid  split  wood  on  them.  It 
was  pine  which  spat  and  broke  out  in  a  bright  flame, 
painting  the  wild  figures  against  the  smoked  logs 
and  rock  wall.  It  illumined  a  bufiFalo-covered  bunk, 
piles  of  parflhhe  full  of  dried  meat,  a  saddle  and 
pack  panniers,  cooking  pots  and  pans  on  the  hearth, 
all  deeply  sooted,  a  table  and  chair  made  with  an  axe, 
and  in  one  corner  some  shelves,  equally  rude,  piled 
with  brown  and  dirty  books.  Many  small  knick- 
knacks  intruded  their  useful  presence  as  one  looked 
with  more  care,  but  the  whole  was  the  den  of  a  man 
of  some  remote  century.  The  sabre-toothed  tiger 
might  snarl  at  the  door  but  for  the  Sharp's  rifle 
standing  in  the  corner;  that  alone  made  time  and 
distance. 

**  Your  ponies  must  starve  to-night,  brother,"  spoke 
Crooked-Bear.  "Go  put  them  in  my  house  where 
the  horses  live  in  summer-time.  It  is  cold  up  here 
in  the  mountains  —  we  have  even  no  cottonwoods 


44  JOHN   ERMINE 

for  them  to  eat.  The  bear  and  the  wolves  will  not 
spring  on  them,  though  the  big  cats  are  about."  All 
this  said  the  white  man  in  the  language  of  the  Absa- 
roke,  though  it  may  be  said  it  sounded  strange  in 
Weasel's  ear.  When  he  spoke  to  the  dogs,  the  boy 
could  not  understand  at  all. 

While  the  Indians  looked  after  their  ponies,  the 
white  man  roasted  meat  and  boiled  coffee.  On  their 
return,  seeing  him  cooking,  Fire-Bear  said  :  "  Brother, 
you  should  have  a  squaw  to  do  that.  Why  do  you 
not  take  Be-Sha's  daughter  ?  She  has  the  blood  of 
the  yellow-eyes  in  her.  She  would  make  your  fire 
burn." 

"Tut,  tut,"  he  replied,  "no  woman  would  make 
my  fire  burn.  My  fire  has  gone  out."  With  a  low 
laugh,  Crooked-Bear  added,  "  No  woman  would  stay 
long  up  here,  brothers ;  she  would  soon  run  away." 
Fire-Bear  said  nothing,  for  he  did  not  understand. 
He  himself  would  follow  and  beat  the  woman  and 
make  her  come  back,  but  he  did  not  say  so. 

Having  eaten,  and  passed  the  pipe,  Fire-Bear  asked 
the  hermit  how  the  winter  was  passing  —  how  the  dry 
meat  was  lasting  —  what  fortune  had  he  in  hunting, 
and  had  any  enemies  beset  him  ^  He  was  assured 
his  good  friends,  the  Absaroke,  had  brought  him 
enough  dry  meat,  after  the  last  fall  hunt,  to  last  him 
until  he  should  no  longer  need  it.  The  elk  were 
below  him,  but  plentiful,  and  his  big  dogs  were  able 
to  haul  enough  up  the  hills  on  his  sleds.  He  only 
feared  for  his  tobacco,  coffee,  and  ammunition ;   that 


CROOKED-BEAR  45 

had  always  to  be  husbanded,  being  difficult  to  get 
and  far  to  carry.  Further,  he  asked  his  friend,  the 
Indian,  to  take  some  rawhides  back  to  the  women,  to 
be  dressed  and  made  into  clothes  for  his  use. 

"  Has  my  brother  any  more  talking  papers  from 
the  yellow-eyes  ?  Do  the  white  men  mean  to  take 
the  Sioux  lands  away  from  them  ?  The  Sioux  asked 
the  Absaroke  last  fall  to  help  drive  the  white  men 
out  of  the  country,  saying,  '  If  they  take  our  lands  to 
dig  their  badger-holes  in,  they  will  soon  want  yours.' 
The  Absaroke  would  not  help  the  Cut-Throats  ^ ;  for 
they  are  dogs  —  they  wag  their  tails  before  they 
bite,"  spoke  Fire-Bear. 

"Yes,  brother,"  replied  Crooked-Bear;  "if  you 
should,  by  aiding  the  Sioux,  get  rid  of  the  white  men, 
and  even  this  you  would  not  be  able  to  do,  —  you  would 
still  have  the  Sioux,  who  are  dogs,  always  ready  to 
bite  you.  No,  brother,  have  nothing  to  do  with  them, 
as  I  have  counselled  you.  The  Sak-a-war-te  said  this 
to  me  :  *  Before  the  grass  on  the  plains  shoots,  send 
a  strong,  fat-horse  war-party  to  the  enemy  and  strike 
hard.  Sweep  their  ponies  away — they  will  be  full 
of  sticks  and  bark,  not  able  to  carry  their  warriors 
that  moon;  tear  their  lodges  down  and  put  their 
fires  out;  make  their  warriors  sit  shivering  in  the 
plum  bushes.  That  is  the  way  for  the  Crows  to  have 
peace.'  The  Great  Spirit  has  said  to  me:  'Tell  the 
Absaroke  that  they  can  never  run  the  buffalo  on 
the  plains  in  peace,  until  the   Chis-chis-chash,  the 

1  The  Sioux. 


46  JOHN   ERMINE 

Dakotahs,  and  the  Piegan  dare  not  look  them  in  the 
face.     That,  and  that  only,  is  the  path.'  " 

Far  into  the  night  the  men  talked  of  the  tribal 
policy —  it  was  diminutive  statesmanship,  commercial 
politics  with  buffalo  meat  for  money.  As  Crooked- 
Bear  sat  on  his  hewn  chair,  he  called  the  boy  to  him, 
put  his  arm  around  him,  and  stood  him  against  his 
knee.  The  youth's  head  rose  above  the  rugged  face 
of  the  master  of  Indian  mystery ;  he  was  in  his  first 
youth,  his  slender  bones  had  lengthened  suddenly  in 
the  last  few  years,  and  the  muscles  had  tried  hard  to 
catch  up  with  them.  They  had  no  time  to  do  more 
than  that,  consequently  Weasel  was  more  beautiful 
than  he  would  ever  be  again.  The  long  lines  of 
grace  showed  under  the  tight  buckskins,  and  his  face 
surveyed  the  old  man  with  boyish  wonder.  Who  can 
know  what  the  elder  thought  of  him  in  return } 
Doubtless  he  dreamed  of  the  infinite  possibilities  of 
so  fine  a  youth.  He  whose  fire  had  gone  out  mused 
pleasantly  as  he  long  regarded  the  form  in  whom 
they  were  newly  lighted. 

Slowly  he  began  to  speak,  using  the  Indian  forms 
of  speech,  and  supplementing  them  with  the  gestures 
which  only  Indians  can  command.  "  Brother,  we 
have  lived  a  long  time.  We  have  made  the  medicine 
strong  for  the  Absaroke.  We  have  taken  the 
words  of  the  Good  Gods  to  the  council-lodge  when 
the  tribe  ran  wildly  and  knew  not  which  way  to  turn. 
We  will  follow  soon  the  others  who  have  gone  to  the 
Shadowland.     The  Absaroke  will  be  left  behind,  and 


3         ">    ■)     ,        i 


JfJ  »  e     * 


CROOKED-BEAR  49 

they  must  have  wise  men  to  guide  them  when  we  are 
gone.  This  young  man  will  be  one  of  those  —  I 
have  seen  that  in  my  dreams.  He  must  stay  here 
with  me  in  the  lonely  mountains,  and  I  will  teach  him 
the  great  mystery  of  the  white  men,  together  with 
that  of  the  people  of  his  own  tribe.  He  will  visit  his 
father's  lodge  whenever  his  heart  is  hungry.  He 
owes  it  to  himself  and  to  his  people  to  grow  strong  in 
the  mystery,  and  then  some  day  the  tribe  will  lean  on 
him.     Shall  he  stay,  brothers  ?  " 

White  Weasel,  with  arms  dropped  to  his  side,  made 
no  move.  The  flame  from  the  hearth  lighted  one  of 
his  starlike  eyes  as  it  stood  open,  regardful  of  the 
strange  old  man.  The  Indians  passed  the  pipe,  and 
for  a  long  time  there  was  no  sound  save  the  snap- 
ping of  the  fire  and  the  pines  outside  popping  with 
the  cold. 

At  last  Fire-Bear  spoke :  "  We  have  had  our  ears 
open,  brother.  Your  talk  is  good.  The  Sak-a-war-te 
demands  this.     The  boy  shall  stay." 

Weasel's  foster-father  held  his  peace.  His  was  the 
sacrifice,  but  the  Great  Spirit  could  not  ask  too  much 
of  him.  In  reply  to  another  inquiry,  he  said  that 
the  boy  should  stay;  then  wrapping  himself  in 
his  robe,  he  lay  down  before  the  fire  to  hide  his 
weakness. 

"Will  you  stay  with  me.?"  asked  the  Wonder- 
worker of  the  boy,  stroking  his  yellow  hair  and 
pouring  the  benevolence  of  his  fire-lighted  face  in  a 
steady  stream  on  the  youth. 


50  JOHN   ERMINE 

*'  You  have  no  ponies  to  herd,  father.  What  shall  I 
do  ? "  he  asked. 

**  I  have  no  ponies  for  you  to  herd,  but  I  have  many 
mysteries  here,"  tapping  the  boy's  forehead  with  his 
finger,  "  for  you  to  gather  up  and  feed  on,  and  they 
are  greater  than  ponies." 

*'  I  will  stay,  father." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   WHITE   MEDICINE 

THAT  the  sun  rose  with  customary  precision 
made  little  difference  to  the  sleepers  in  the 
mountain  den.  Little  of  its  light  crept 
down  the  hole  against  the  rock  wall,  and  none  of 
it  penetrated  the  warm  buffalo-robes.  The  dogs, 
growing  uneasy,  walked  about  and  scratched  at  the 
door;  they  had  not  been  disturbed  by  last  night's 
vigil.  Waking,  one  by  one,  the  men  threw  off  the 
robes  and  went  out ;  all  but  the  boy,  who  lay  quite 
still,  his  vitaHty  engaged  in  feeding  the  growing 
bones  and  stretching  muscles. 

Out  by  the  stable  Crooked-Bear  said :  "  Take  your 
ponies  and  that  of  the  boy  and  ride  away.  They  will 
starve  here,  and  you  must  go  before  they  weaken  and 
are  unable  to  carry  you.  A  boy  changes  his  mind 
very  quickly,  and  he  may  not  think  in  the  sunHght 
what  he  did  in  the  firelight.  I  will  be  kind  to  him. 
Tell  Ba-cher-hish-a  that  her  son  will  be  a  great 
chief  in  a  few  grasses." 

Silently,  as  only  the  cats  and  the  wolves  and  the 
Indians  conduct  themselves,  the  men  with  the  led 
horses   lost    themselves    among    the    trees,    leaving 

51 


52  JOHN   ERMINE 

Crooked-Bear  standing  by  his  abode  with  the  two 
great  cross-bred  mastiffs,  on  their  hind  legs,  leaning 
on  him  and  trying  to  lick  his  face.  As  they  stood 
together,  the  dogs  were  taller  than  he,  and  all  three 
of  them  about  the  same  color.  It  was  a  fantastic 
scene ;  a  few  goblins,  hoarse  mystery  birds,  Indian 
devils,  and  what  not  beside,  might  have  been 
added  to  the  group  and  without  adding  to  its 
strangeness.  Weasel  had  foucd  a  most  unearthly 
home;  but  as  he  awoke  and  lay  looking  about 
the  cabin,  it  did  not  seem  so  awfully  strange. 
Down  through  the  ages  —  borne  through  hundreds  of 
wombs  —  in  some  mysterious  alcove  of  the  boy's  brain 
had  survived  something  which  did  not  make  the  long- 
haired white  man  working  about  the  fire,  the  massive 
dogs,  the  skins  of  wild  animals,  the  sooty  interior,  look 
so  strange. 

As  Weasel  rose  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the  bunk, 
the  dogs  got  up  also.  "  Down  with  you !  Down 
with  you,  Eric !  and  you,  Hope !  You  must  not 
bother  the  boy,"  came  the  hermit's  words  of  com- 
mand. The  dogs  understood,  and  lay  heavily  down, 
but  their  eyes  shone  through  heavy  red  settings  as 
they  regarded  the  boy  with  unarrested  attention. 

"  I  am  afraid  of  your  dogs,  father;  they  are  as  big 
as  ponies.     Will  they  eat  me  .•*  " 

"  No ;  do  not  be  afraid.  Before  the  sun  goes 
over  the  mountains  they  will  eat  any  one  who  would 
raise  his  hand  against  you.  Come,  put  your  hand  on 
their  heads.     The  Indians  do  not  do  this ;  but  these 


THE  WHITE  MEDICINE  53 

are  white  dogs,  and  they  will  not  bite  any  one  who 
can  put  his  hand  on  their  heads,"  spoke  Crooked- 
Bear  in  his  labored  way  with  the  Indian  tongue.  He 
had  never  mastered  all  the  clicks  and  clucks  of  it. 

The  meat  being  done,  it  was  put  on  the  table,  and 
White  Weasel  was  persuaded  to  undertake  his  first 
development.  The  hermit  knew  that  the  mind  never 
waits  on  a  starved  belly,  so  he  explained  to  the  boy 
that  only  dogs  ate  on  the  ground.  That  was  not 
obvious  to  the  youngster;  but  he  sat  in  the  chair 
and  mauled  his  piece  of  meat,  which  was  in  a  tin 
plate.  He  drank  his  coffee  out  of  a  tin  cup,  which 
he  could  see  was  full  better  than  a  hollow  buffalo 
horn,  besides  having  the  extra  blandishment  of  sugar 
in  it.  As  the  hermit,  occupying  an  up-turned  pack- 
saddle  opposite,  regarded  the  boy,  he  could  see  that 
Weasel  had  a  full  forehead  —  that  it  was  not  pinched 
like  an  Indian's;  he  understood  the  deep,  wide-open 
eyes  which  were  the  color  of  new  ice,  and  the  straight, 
solemn  nose  appealed  to  him  also.  The  face  was 
formal  even  to  the  statuesque,  which  is  an  easy  way 
of  saying  he  was  good-looking.  The  bearer  of  these 
messages  from  his  ancestors  to  Crooked-Bear  quite 
satisfied  him.  He  knew  that  the  baby  Weasel  had 
been  forcibly  made  to  enter  a  life  from  which  he 
himself  had  in  mature  years  voluntarily  fled,  and 
for  which  neither  was  intended.  They  had  entered 
from  opposite  doors  only,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  go 
out  again,  but  the  boy  might.  He  determined  to 
show  him  the  way  to  undo  the  latching. 


54  JOHN   ERMINE 

After  breakfast  began  the  slow  second  lesson  of 
the  white  man's  mystery.  It  was  in  the  shape  of 
some  squaw's  work,  and  again  the  boy  thought  un- 
utterable protests.  Crooked-Bear  had  killed  an  elk 
the  day  before,  some  considerable  distance  down  the 
mountain,  and  taking  his  dogs  with  the  sledges,  they 
sallied  down  to  get  it.  What  with  helping  to  push 
the  heavy  loads  in  aid  of  the  dogs  and  his  disgust 
of  being  on  foot,  at  their  noon  home-coming  White 
Weasel's  interest  began  to  flag. 

Crooked-Bear  noticed  this,  and  put  even  more  sugar 
into  the  boy's  coffee.  He  had  a  way  of  voicing  half- 
uttered  thoughts  to  himself,  using  his  native  tongue, 
also  repeating  these  thoughts  as  though  to  reenforce 
them.  "  I  must  go  slow  —  I  must  go  slow,  or  the  boy 
will  balk.  I  must  lead  him  with  a  silken  thread ;  the 
rawhide  will  not  do — it  will  not  do."  Meanwhile 
the  growing  youth  passed  naturally  into  oblivion  on 
the  bunk. 

*' These  Indians  are  an  indolent  people,"  the  prophet 
continued.  **  They  work  only  by  fits  and  starts,  but 
so  am  I  indolent  too.  It  befits  our  savage  way  of 
life,"  saying  which,  he  put  some  coffee-berries  into 
a  sack  and  began  pounding  them  with  an  axe.  "  I 
do  not  know  —  I  do  not  remember  to  have  been  lazy ; 
it  does  not  matter  now  if  I  am.  No  one  cares,  and 
certainly  I  do  not.  I  have  tramped  these  mountains 
in  all  weathers;  I  have  undergone  all  manner  of 
hardships,  yet  they  said  I  could  not  be  a  soldier  in 
the  armies  down  south.     Of  course  not  —  of  course 


THE   WHITE   MEDICINE  55 

not;  a  humpback  could  not  be  a  soldier.  He  is  fit 
only  to  swear  at.  Men  would  laugh  at  a  crooked- 
back  soldier.  She  could  see  nothing  but  my  back. 
Ah  —  ah  —  it  is  past  now.  Men  and  women  are 
not  here  to  see  my  back ;  the  trees  and  the  clouds, 
the  mountains  and  my  dogs,  do  not  look  at  my  spine. 
The  Indians  say  my  back  was  bent  by  my  heavy 
thoughts.  The  boy  there  has  a  straight  back,  and 
I  hope  he  may  walk  among  men.  I  will  see  that 
he  does ;  I  will  give  him  the  happiness  which  was 
denied  me,  and  it  pleases  me  to  think  that  I  can  do 
this.  I  will  create  a  happiness  which  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  this  strange  life  seem  to  have  denied  him, 
saying,  'Weasel,  you  are  to  be  a  starved  and  naked 
nomad  of  the  plains.'  No  !  no !  boy ;  you  are  not  to 
be  a  starved  and  naked  nomad  of  the  plains.  I  have  in 
my  life  done  no  intentional  evil,  and  also  I  have  done 
no  intentional  good;  now  this  problem  of  the  boy 
has  come  to  me  —  how  it  reaches  out  its  roots  for 
the  nourishing  things  and  how  its  branches  spread 
for  the  storms  !  " 

Having  accompanied  these  thoughts  by  the  beat- 
ing of  the  axe,  the  hermit  arose,  and  stood  gazing  on 
the  sleeping  lad.  "  Oh,  if  I  had  only  had  your  back! 
—  oh  !  oh !  oh !  But  if  only  you  had  had  my  oppor- 
tunities and  education  —  well,  I  am  not  a  god;  I 
am  only  a  man ;  I  will  do  what  a  man  can." 

When  the  boy  awoke,  the  hermit  said,  "  My  son, 
did  you  ever  make  a  gun  speak  } " 

**No;    my  father's  gun  hangs  with  his  mystery- 


56  JOHN   ERMINE 

bag  on  his  reclining-mat,  and  a  woman  or  child  dare 
not  lay  their  fingers  on  it." 

"  Would  you  like  to  make  a  gun  talk  ? "  came 
gently,  but  Weasel  could  only  murmur.  The  new 
and  great  things  of  life  were  coming  fast  to  him. 
He  would  almost  have  given  his  life  to  shoot  a  gun ; 
to  own  one  was  like  the  creation,  and  the  few  similar 
thoughts  of  men ;  it  was  beyond  the  stars. 

"  Weasel,"  said  the  man,  taking  up  a  carbine,  and 
calling  him  by  name,  —  which  is  un-Indian,  —  "  here 
is  a  gun ;  it  loads  in  the  middle ;  I  give  it  to  you ; 
it  is  yours."  With  which  he  handed  the  weapon  to 
the  boy. 

After  some  hesitation  Weasel  took  the  gun,  hold- 
ing it  stiffly  in  front  of  him,  as  an  altar-boy  might  a 
sacred  thing.  He  could  say  nothing,  and  soon  sat 
down,  still  holding  the  firearm,  regarding  it  for  a 
long  time.  When  he  could  finally  believe  he  was 
not  dreaming,  when  he  comprehended  that  he  really 
did  own  a  gun,  he  passed  into  an  unutterable  peace, 
akin  to  nothing  but  a  mother  and  her  new-born  child. 
His  white  father  stepped  majestically  from  the  earth 
that  Weasel  knew  into  the  rolling  clouds  of  the 
unthought  places. 

"  To-morrow  I  will  take  my  gun,  and  you  will  take 
your  gun,  and  we  will  walk  the  hills  together.  What- 
ever we  see,  be  it  man  or  beast,  your  gun  may  speak 
first,"  proposed  the  prophet. 

"Yes,  father,  we  will  go  out  with  the  coming  of 
the  sun.     My  heart  is  as  big  as  the  mountains ;  only 


THE  WHITE  MEDICINE  57 

yesterday  I  was  a  herd-boy,  now  I  own  a  gun.  This 
brought  it  all  to  me,"  the  boy  said  almost  to  himself, 
as  he  fumbled  a  small  bag  hanging  at  his  neck.  The 
bag  contained  the  dried  horse's  hoof. 

Throwing  back  his  long  hair,  the  prophet  fixed  his 
face  on  his  new  intellectual  garden.  He  saw  the 
weeds,  and  he  hardly  dared  to  pull  them,  fearing  to 
disturb  the  tender  seeds  which  he  had  so  lately 
planted.  Carefully  he  plucked  at  them.  "  No,  my 
son,  that  was  not  your  medicine  which  brought  the 
gun,  but  my  medicine ;  the  medicine  of  the  white 
man  brought  it  to  you.  The  medicine  of  the  white 
man  brought  the  gun  to  you  because  the  Great 
Spirit  knew  you  were  a  white  boy.  The  medicine 
of  the  white  man  is  not  carried  in  a  buckskin  bag ;  it 
is  carried  here."  And  the  prophet  laid  his  finger  on 
his  own  rather  imposing  brow;  he  swept  his  hair 
away  from  it  with  a  graceful  gesture,  and  smiling  on 
the  youth,  he  waited  to  see  whether  the  seed  had 
come  up  with  the  bad  weed. 

Weasel's  hand  left  the  bag,  and  followed  down  to 
the  gun  while  he  looked  at  his  master.  It  might  be 
so ;  no  Indian  boy  whom  he  knew  had  ever  had  a 
gun.  This  firearm  absorbed  him,  and  the  man  felt 
it  would  continue  to  do  so  for  some  time  to  come; 
therefore  he  said  no  more. 

Bright  and  early  was  the  start  of  the  hunters  in 
the  morning.  They  left  the  dogs  in  the  cabin,  and 
with  snow-shoes  slung  to  their  backs,  followed  down 
the  sledge-trail  toward  the  bare  foothills,  where  the 


58  JOHN   ERMINE 

game  was.  In  and  out  among  the  shadows  of  the 
pine  trees  passed  the  figures,  vigorous  with  the  moun- 
tain ozone,  and  both  happy  in  their  respective  ways. 
On  reaching  a  proper  place,  they  adjusted  the  broad, 
oval  rackets,  and  skirted  along  the  timber-line,  watch- 
ing the  hills  below  them,  from  which  the  wind  had 
blown  the  snow.  It  was  not  difficult  to  find  game  in 
those  days,  before  the  coming  of  the  white  men  bear- 
ing their  long-range  rifles.  Far  out  on  the  plain  their 
trained  eyes  saw  the  bands  of  antelope,  and,  nearer, 
herds  of  mule-deer  working  about  in  the  ravines. 
"  But,"  said  the  boy,  "  my  first  shot  must  be  at  an  elk 
or  a  bighorn,  father." 

"  Come  then,  my  son,  we  will  go  round  this  point 
of  the  hill,  and  on  the  sunny  southern  slope  we  will 
find  the  elk  —  great  bands  of  them.  You  shall  shoot 
one,  and  when  you  have  done  that,  the  herd-boy  will 
be  a  hunter." 

As  had  been  predicted,  in  due  course  of  their  walk 
they  beheld  bands  of  elk  lying  about  or  walking 
slowly,  their  yellow  backs  gleaming  in  the  morning 
sun.  The  warm  winds  from  the  valleys  were  coming 
up  toward  the  arctic  mountain-tops  and  away  from 
the  elk.  "  Take  off  your  snow-shoes,  my  son  ;  they 
creak  on  the  snow  —  the  elk  will  hear  them;  we 
must  go  down  this  ravine,  and  when  we  are  near 
enough,  you  will  shoot." 

Under  cover  of  the  rocks  and  sparse  pines  they 
slowly  made  their  well-considered  way  noiselessly, 
the  boy's  eyes  blazing  with  the  hunter's  lust,  and  the 


THE  WHITE   MEDICINE  59 

old  man  watching  him  eagerly.  From  time  to  time 
the  Weasel  Hfted  his  head  above  the  rim-rock  of  the 
ravine  to  note  the  position  of  their  approach,  but  the 
hermit's  heedful  eye  bore  only  on  his  pupil.  They 
had  worked  their  way,  after  the  hunter  manner,  a 
long  distance  downward,  and  hoped  soon  to  be  in 
a  position  for  a  safe  shot.  The  canon-like  ravine 
which  they  were  following  narrowed  suddenly ;  the 
snow  lay  in  deep  drifts  against  its  sides,  making  it 
necessary  for  them  to  go  slowly  along  the  ledges 
of  the  rim-rock,  the  boy  always  first.  As  they  were 
about  to  round  the  point  where  the  coul6e  tightened, 
a  big  yellow  form  drifted  like  a  wind-blown  feather 
on  to  them  ;  it  suddenly  appeared  not  twenty  feet 
from  their  faces,  and  it  was  a  mountain-lion.  Both 
the  men  and  the  animal  stopped,  the  men  straighten- 
ing up  while  the  cougar  crouched  down.  The  cat 
bared  its  fangs,  the  boy  raised  his  carbine ;  both 
were  in  search  of  game,  but  neither  for  what  he 
had  found.  The  gun  reached  its  place ;  the  coul6e 
echoed  with  the  heavy  report,  and  through  the  envel- 
oping smoke  flew  the  great  cat  as  though  also 
impelled  by  gunpowder.  The  boy  had  not  missed 
his  mark,  and  the  lion  his  only  by  a  small  margin. 
The  steep  snowdrift  yielded  under  his  frantic  claws, 
carrying  him  many  yards  down  the  sides. 

"  Load  your  gun  and  shoot  him.  Weasel ;  I  shall 
not  shoot,"  came  the  hermit's  voice.  The  position  of 
his  long  rifle  belied  his  words,  but  the  youth  did  not 
look  behind.     He  fumbled  for  a  cartridge,  was  slow 


6o  JOHN   ERMINE 

in  working  the  strange  mechanism  of  the  arm,  but 
he  was  ready  by  the  time  the  cat,  much  frustrated 
by  the  unresisting  snow,  had  nearly  reached  him. 
Again  the  canon  chorussed  to  the  rifle,  and  as  the 
heavy  black  powder-smoke  drifted  off  on  the  friendly 
wind,  the  boy  saw  that  he  had  killed.  All  had  hap- 
pened too  quickly  for  his  brain  if  not  for  his  arm. 

"  Load  your  gun,"  came  the  voice  of  command 
in  English.  The  tense  situation  made  the  new  lan- 
guage strike  Weasel's  brain  through  his  ear  as  his 
bullet  had  struck  the  monster.  The  sound  of  it  was 
what  conveyed  the  meaning,  and  the  harsh  bang  of 
the  words  went  home.  An  Indian  would  have  had 
to  gluck  and  cluck  and  glut  for  half  a  minute  to 
make  these  three  words  plain.  It  would  have  sounded 
more  like  grace  before  meat  than  a  command. 

Weasel  again  broke  his  rifle  and  shoved  the  brass 
shell  home,  never  looking  elsewhere  than  at  the  yel- 
low spot  of  fur  on  the  white  snow  below  him,  as  its 
fierce  electric  nerves  slowly  softened  its  expiring 
motions  into  quiet.  He  had  never  had  even  a  dream 
of  victory  such  as  had  taken  form  before  him.  He 
had  known  old  Indian  hunters  who  rode  on  a  lion's 
skin  in  the  ceremonial  days,  and  he  knew  what  war- 
riors in  the  tribe  wore  the  grizzly  bear-claw  necklaces 
—  every  one  knew  those  men.  Could  it  be  that  he 
would  ride  on  a  lion's  skin.?  Could  it  be  that  he 
would  carry  a  gun  which  loaded  in  the  middle }  Yes, 
it  could  be  if  he  only  had  a  horse,  but  ponies  were 
easier  than  guns  or  lions'  skins  in  the  Indian  world. 


THE   WHITE   MEDICINE  6i 

What  a  vista  of  power  and  glory  opened  in  the  boy's 
mind !    What  vanity  of  his  could  not  yet  be  satisfied  ? 

The  hermit  glanced  over  the  rim-rock  and  saw  the 
elk  in  long  lines  trotting  away;  he  could  hear  the 
joints  cracking,  but  his  cabin  was  full  of  meat. 
"  Boy,  this  was  a  white  man's  medicine-hunt.  Could 
any  Indian  do  that  for  you  ?  "  But  the  boy  heeded 
not;  with  a  series  of  wolfish  yells  he  slid  down  the 
snowy  incline  toward  his  fallen  foe.  The  hermit 
followed,  and  drawing  their  knives,  they  raised  the 
hide  while  the  body  was  yet  warm,  taking  head  and 
tail  and  claws.  Weasel  was  delirious  with  joy ;  he 
laughed  and  jabbered  and  ki-yied,  while  the  pleased 
old  man  calculated  that  he  had  reduced  the  boy  to  a 
state  of  mind  when  it  was  safe  to  burden  his  wild 
young  charge  with  something  quite  as  serious  for 
him  as  tigers'  skins.  He  would  make  him  begin  his 
English. 

They  made  their  way  back  to  the  snow-shoes  — 
back  to  the  sledge-road  —  up  to  the  cabin  —  received 
a  welcome  from  the  dogs;  but  the  coffee  had  less 
sugar  than  before.  Economy  was  a  watchword  with 
him  who  trailed  his  necessities  over  the  long  jour- 
ney from  the  traders  on  pack-ponies,  and  so  the  Hon 
skin  tacked  on  the  wall  was  enough  for  the  boy. 

Gradually  the  man  brought  EngHsh  words  into  the 
play  of  conversation,  and  Weasel  sought  the  key  to 
the  white  medicine  which  had  so  exalted  him.  The 
nouns  came  first,  and  he  soon  began  to  piece  them 
out  with  other  parts  of  speech ;  his  ear  accustomed 


62  JOHN   ERMINE 

itself,  and  with  it  all  came  new  and  larger  thoughts 
carefully  strewn  in  his  way  by  the  prophet. 

They  hunted  together ;  did  the  little  healthy  work 
found  in  their  simple  manner  of  life  which  no  longer 
seemed  fitted  for  women  only  ;  and  the  grave  old 
man  at  last  saw  the  spark  which  he  had  lighted  burst 
into  flame.  It  was  the  warmth  of  human  kindness 
which  is  the  base  of  everything  ennobling  to  man. 

One  day  when  the  buds  of  the  leaves  were  begin- 
ning to  show  themselves,  in  response  to  nature's 
inviting  smiles,  the  dogs  barked  furiously.  The  two 
dwellers  of  the  cabin  seized  their  rifles,  ran  out  to 
places  which  had  been  selected  by  them  for  their 
strategic  advantages  in  calm  moments,  and  waited. 
Before  long  they  heard  challenges  in  the  well-known 
Absaroke,  which  they  answered. 

**  Do  not  talk  English  to  your  people,  my  son ;  they 
will  not  understand,"  said  the  hermit;  but  what  he 
feared  was  their  suspicion  of  the  transformation  of 
the  lad.  The  Absaroke,  no  more  than  the  Dakotahs, 
understood  or  loved  the  white  man;  they  merely 
tolerated  him  for  tribal  reasons.  The  prophet  had 
ingratiated  himself  by  fortunate  circumstances  and 
an  abounding  tact. 

The  newcomers  were  a  dozen  chiefs  of  the  tribe, 
the  boy's  Indian  father  among  them.  They  drove 
a  few  led  ponies  belonging  to  Crooked-Bear,  which 
they  were  returning  after  their  wintering  with  the 
Absaroke  herds.  The  quickly  shooting  mountain 
grasses  would  support  them  at  this  season. 


THE  WHITE  MEDICINE  63 

Long  and  seemingly  interminable  talks  followed 
the  pipe  about  the  prophet's  blazing  hearth.  He 
filled  their  minds  with  strong,  sensible  advice,  reen- 
forcing  it  by  supposed  inspired  sources,  until  the 
tobacco  which  he  had  appropriated  for  such  occa- 
sions gave  out.  It  was  a  cheap  and  in  fact  the  only 
way  by  which  he  could  purchase  immunity  from  viO' 
lence  —  a  safe  wintering  for  his  ponies  and  his  fall 
supply  of  dried  buffalo  meat. 

His  influence  was  boundless,  and  while  he  hoped 
quite  as  much  as  the  Indians  that  the  white  men 
would  never  come  to  these  parts  during  his  lifetime, 
he  also  knew  that  they  would.  He  heard  reports 
that  the  miners  were  invading  the  Sioux  territory 
from  the  south;  he  knew  gold,  and  he  knew  white 
men,  and  he  realized  what  the  combination  always 
produced.  In  this  strait  he  saw  that  the  efforts  of 
the  Sioux  would  be  so  taxed  to  oppose  the  progress 
that  the  Absaroke  would  profit  by  their  preoccupation. 
His  revelations  always  favored  the  alliance  between 
the  Absaroke  and  the  yellow-eyes.  No  one  can  ever 
know  how  much  this  forgotten  hermit  of  the  Chew- 
cara-dsh-Nitishic  did  for  his  race  in  the  days  when 
the  Indians  of  the  northern  plains  made  their  last 
stand  before  the  white  men.  The  Indians  from  King 
Phihp's  time  never  understood  the  powers,  resources, 
and  numbers  of  the  white  people.  Even  the  Crows 
in  those  days  wavered  before  the  boastful  envoys  of 
the  neighbor  tribes.  The  Indians  had  hunted  out  of 
the  country  the  Metis,  the  Pea-Soups,  or  the  French 


64  JOHN   ERMINE 

half-breeds,  together  with  the  white  trappers,  who  had 
often  contracted  Indian  marriages,  and  who  had  fol- 
lowed the  fortunes  of  the  early  fur  trade. 

At  that  time  old  frontiersmen  like  Norris,  who  had 
for  years  followed  up  and  down  the  plains,  and  across 
the  range,  admitted  that  a  strong  party  of  seasoned 
trappers  was  not  safe  east  of  the  Big  Horn  Moun- 
tains. 

The  long  palaver  terminated  with  the  Indians' 
promise  to  send  out  war-parties  against  the  other 
tribes.  The  Weasel  was  not  able  to  resist  a  very 
natural  desire  to  go  again  to  the  camps,  to  visit  his 
foster-mother,  the  boys  of  his  childhood,  and  deeper 
yet  to  bear  the  gun  and  the  lion's  skin.  The  impor- 
tant men  of  the  visiting  party  had  come  to  regard 
White  Weasel  with  some  sort  of  veneration ;  he  had 
that  about  him  which  was  not  quite  understandable ; 
he  was  supposed  to  be  near  the  unknown  Power. 


CHAPTER  VI 

JOHN    ERMINE 

FOR  a  few  days  after  the  departure  of  the  boy 
the  hermit  felt  depressed ;  he  had  added  a 
human  interest  to  his  Hfe,  which  previously 
had  been  satisfied  by  communion  with  nature  alone. 
The  bugs,  the  plants,  the  birds,  the  beasts,  the  dogs, 
the  hunting,  had  sufficed.  The  seat  on  the  rock  wall 
above  the  cabin,  where  he  mused,  and  where  his  eyes 
went  forward  over  interminable  mileS  of  cloud-flecked 
plain  and  tier  after  tier  of  ragged  mountain  ranges, 
had  satisfied  him,  while  his  mind  wandered  backward 
among  the  years  before  he  became  a  hermit. 

But  shortly  the  time  arrived  when  he  was  com- 
pelled to  make  his  semiannual  trip  with  his  pack- 
horses  to  the  traders  for  his  supplies  of  ammunition, 
of  pots  and  pans,  of  tobacco,  blankets,  and  food- 
stuffs, without  which  he  could  not  exist.  This 
journey  was  always  tedious,  hard,  and  dangerous; 
but  he  tried  always  to  do  it  while  the  horses  of 
the  enemy  out  on  the  plains  were  thin  and  as 
yet  unserviceable.  With  all  the  circumspection  he 
was  able  to  use,  he  had  on  several  occasions  nearly 
lost  his  life ;   but  needs   must,    he   could   renounce 

F  65 


dd  JOHN   ERMINE 

everything  on  earth  except  his  belly.  However,  this 
time  he  accomplished  his  journey,  and  aside  from 
straying  ponies,  turning  packs,  with  the  other  in- 
evitables of  desert  life,  he,  safe  and  well  provided, 
found  his  cabin  again.  The  Indians  had  told  him 
that  White  Weasel  had  gone  with  a  war-party. 
That  was  nothing;  —  all  men  in  the  wild  country 
were  more  or  less  at  war  all  the  time.  "  I  hope 
the  boy  keeps  that  corn-silk  on  his  head,"  solilo- 
quized the  hermit;  "also  I  think  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  the  young  savage  if  he  is  forced 
to  leave  other  people's  alone.  A  fresh  scalp  in 
that  boy's  hand  will  make  an  extra  year's  work 
for  me.  It  cannot  be  helped  —  it  cannot  be  helped ; 
it  is  the  law  of  nature,,  only  that  law  operates  badly 
out  here.  What  does  it  matter,  however.?  The 
women  can  correct  the  loss  of  a  man  more  or  less 
in  the  world." 

With  the  return  of  spring  came  the  elk  and  big- 
horn. They  walked  into  his  park  and  blew  their 
whistles  as  they  smelled  the  odors  from  his  hearth. 
The  big  gray  bears  came  out  of  their  winter  caves 
and  rumbled  past  his  door.  These  were  his  greatest 
foes,  constantly  stampeding  his  ponies,  even  clawing 
at  his  heavy  log  horse-barn,  where  he  always  kept 
one  horse  to  hunt  the  others  with,  and  trying  to 
circumvent  his  meat-arbor,  —  a  device  hung  on  a 
pole  high  up  between  two  slender  trees,  which  was 
operated  up  and  down  by  a  rawhide  rope.  Small 
black  bears  often  put  this  out  of  action,  but  the  dogs 


JOHN    ERMINE  67 

were  usually  able  to  chase  these  away.  Not  so  with 
the  silver-tips ;  for  at  times  one  of  the  playful  brutes 
would  come  round  to  indulge  himself  in  the  sport  of 
chasing  Eric  and  Hope  about  the  dooryard  over  their 
own  preserves.  Th6y  both  had  been  slashed  and 
hugged  at  intervals  in  their  youth,  and  so  took 
the  big  bears  at  their  own  estimate.  The  long, 
fifty-caliber  rifle  was  called  upon  on  such  occa- 
sions, and  thus  far  with  success. 

One  day,  at  the  beginning  of  summer,  the  boy  re- 
turned to  the  hermit's  nest,  —  was  barked  at,  chal- 
lenged, and  finally  greeted. 

"  Have  you  blinded  your  ponies'  trail  carefully, 
coming  up  from  the  valley  ?  The  enemy  is  abroad 
in  the  land  these  days,"  was  asked  and  answered 
satisfactorily.  The  boy's  features,  which  were  rather 
grave  in  response  to  the  seriousness  of  his  life,  were 
relaxed  and  beaming.  There  was  an  eagle  feather 
in  his  hair,  hanging  down  behind.  He  led  the  pony 
loaned  by  the  prophet,  which  bore  a  bunch  of  buck- 
skins, and  was  mounted  on  a  fine  animal,  quite  in 
the  warrior  class,  with  a  new  elkhorn  saddle.  His 
panther  skin  was  rolled  behind  him.  Dismounting, 
he  carefully  undid  this,  and  from  its  folds  drew  forth 
a  scalp  —  a  braid  of  long  hair,  the  skin  stretched  on 
a  wooden  ring  and  half  covered  down  the  plat  with 
silver  disks  made  of  pounded  silver  dollars. 

"  It  was  a  Dakotah,  father,  and  I  put  his  fire  out 
with  the  medicine  gun  you  gave  me.  I  have  danced 
it  with  the  warriors ;  I  am  a  warrior  now." 


6S  JOHN   ERMINE 

The  old  man's  worst  fears  had  been  realized,  but 
after  eating  he  had  the  story  from  White  Weasel. 

**When  I  reached  the  village,  my  father's  and 
mother's  hearts  grew  big  at  the  sight  of  my  gun  and 
lion's  skin.  My  mother  had  made  the  buckskins  you 
sent  down  by  my  father  into  clothes  both  for  your- 
self and  for  myself."  Here  he  presented  the  hermit 
with  his  new  dress,  made  beautiful  with  yellow  ochre 
and  with  long  fringes  at  back  and  sleeves,  and  open 
at  the  front,  as  was  the  white  man's  custom. 

"  Long-Horse,"  the  boy  continued,  "  was  making 
up  a  party  to  go  to  the  Dakotahs.  I  asked  to  be 
one  of  them,  but  he  thought  I  was  young.  I  said 
my  medicine  was  strong  and  that  my  horse  was  fat. 
He  said  I  was  young  to  learn  the  war-path  secret, 
but  after  smoking  my  talk  he  consented.  I  had  only 
eight  cartridges  and  one  horse,  all  the  other  Indians 
having  two  apiece.  Your  old  pack-pony  is  a  war- 
horse  now,  father ;  he  has  carried  a  warrior,"  and 
the  turquoise  eyes  gleamed  brilHantly.  "  Long- 
Horse  had  a  big  band ;  we  made  the  war-path  medi- 
cine and  travelled  many  sleeps  with  our  backs  to  the 
sun.  One  morning  our  scouts  found  two  men,  an 
Absaroke  and  a  white  man,  and  brought  them  in. 
They  belonged  to  the  white  warriors'  camp,  which 
was  fighting  the  Dakotahs,  who  were  all  around  them, 
and  these  men  were  going  for  help.  Long-Horse 
moved  toward  this  place  guided  by  the  men  we  had 
met.  Before  the  sun  was  up,  the  Absaroke  rode 
into  the  camp  of  the  white  soldiers,  and  they  were 


JOHN   ERMINE  69 

glad  to  see  us.  They  had  the  white  cloth  lodges 
and  many  wagons,  but  their  horses  had  been  taken 
by  the  Dakotahs  and  they  had  lost  some  soldiers. 
The  white  men  had  put  their  dead  men  in  the 
ground.  I  saw  where  they  had  dug  in  the  earth  and 
left  mounds  such  as  the  prairie-dog  builds.  The  camp 
was  on  the  low  ground,  and  back  of  this  were  bluffs. 
When  the  sun  gave  light,  we  could  see  the  Cut- 
Throats  swarm  on  their  hill  as  the  ants  do  when  you 
lift  a  stone.  There  were  five  Cut-Throats  to  one 
white  soldier,  and  the  white  men  could  not  go  out  to 
them.  While  the  white  men  had  no  women,  they 
had  more  wagons  than  I  could  count,  loaded  with 
sugar  and  coffee  until  the  wheels  cut  the  ground. 
I  never  knew  there  was  so  much  coffee  and  sugar ; 
where  does  it  come  from,  father.?  The  white  men 
are  rich,  and  there  are  so  few  of  them  that  each  has 
more  than  he  wants.  In  a  place  of  that  kind  the 
Absaroke  would  have  run  away,  but  the  white  men 
cannot  run,  and  they  think  more  of  the  coffee  and 
sugar  than  they  do  of  their  own  lives.  It  made  my 
head  weak  when  I  saw  the  enemy ;  they  rode 
swiftly ;  they  were  all  warriors,  for  they  all  had  the 
war-feathers  in  their  hair.  They  had  guns,  and  as 
they  rode  they  made  the  gestures  of  women  and 
snakes  and  dogs  at  us.  They  rode  away  from  a 
spot  which  they  pointed  at,  and  then  they  pointed  at 
us,  saying  we  were  buffalo  that  always  ran  away  like 
this.  Long-Horse  and  the  white  chief,  a  big  man 
with  short  hair,  made  a  long  talk.      The  Absaroke 


70  JOHN    ERMINE 

gave  their  old  travelling-ponies  to  the  white  warriors, 
who  put  their  own  saddles  on  them.  These  white 
soldiers  mounted  the  ponies  on  the  wrong  side,  and 
tired  as  the  horses  were,  they  jumped  like  rabbits 
under  them.  Though  I  was  afraid  of  the  enemy,  I 
had  to  laugh,  father. 

**  When  we  were  ready,  we  charged  the  enemy,  and 
they  fled  before  us ;  we  followed  them  until  they 
gained  the  rough  hills.  We  fired  at  the  Dakotahs, 
and  they  fired  at  us,  they  always  working  backward 
in  the  rough  cailons,  where  we  were  afraid  to  follow 
on  horseback  because  Long-Horse  said  they  were  try- 
ing to  lead  us  into  an  ambuscade.  All  day  we  fought, 
although  very  few  were  killed.  At  night  the  white 
soldiers  and  many  Absaroke  rode  swiftly  back  to  the 
camp.  Long-Horse  with  half  of  the  Absaroke 
stopped  in  the  strong  woods  high  up  on  one  side  of 
a  ravine,  and  I  stayed  with  them.  I  had  only  four 
cartridges  left.  All  night  we  lay  there  and  allowed 
their  scouts  to  go  down  the  cafion  without  firing  on 
them.  In  the  early  morning  we  heard  the  Dakotahs 
coming ;  they  rode  down  the  cut  before  our  faces,  not 
knowing  we  were  there.  When  Long-Horse  gave 
his  war-whoop,  we  all  fired,  and  jumping  on  our  ponies 
charged  into  them.  The  ground  was  covered  with 
dying  horses  and  men.  My  heart  grew  big,  father ; 
everything  before  my  eyes  swam  red,  and  I  do  not 
remember  much  except  that  I  rode  behind  a  big 
Dakotah  and  shot  him  in  the  back.  He  fell  from  his 
horse  to  the  ground  and  tried  to  gain  his  feet,  but  I 


JOHN   ERMINE  71 

rode  the  pack-pony  over  him,  knocking  him  down 
so  that  he  lay  still.  I  turned  round  and  shot  him 
again  before  he  died,  and  then  I  took  his  hair.  He 
had  a  beautiful  head-dress  of  feathers,  which  I  took, 
but  I  left  his  gun,  for  it  was  heavy  and  a  poor  one.  I 
chased  his  pony,  the  fine  war-horse  which  is  out  in 
the  stable.  The  Dakotahs  who  were  not  killed  had 
all  run  away,  so  I  ran  the  dead  man's  pony  back  to 
camp,  where  with  the  help  of  other  Indians  I  caught 
him.  Long-Horse  was  killed,  and  a  few  Absaroke 
wounded,  but  we  got  many  scalps,  one  of  which  is 
mine. 

**The  white  soldiers  took  me  to  their  lodge  and 
gave  me  coffee  which  was  heavy  with  sugar.  They 
spoke  your  language  to  me,  but  I  could  not  under- 
stand much  of  it.  A  half -Indian  man  talked  the  Ab- 
saroke for  me  in  their  tongue,  and  when  I  said  I  was  a 
Crow,  —  for  that  is  what  the  white  men  call  us,  —  they 
laughed  until  my  heart  grew  bad.  They  asked  me  if 
there  were  any  more  Crows  whose  hair  was  the  color 
of  the  dry  grass,  and  then  they  continued  to  laugh. 
They  said  I  must  have  been  born  on  a  frosty  morning. 
I  did  not  know  what  to  say,  but  I  saw  their  hearts 
warmed  to  me,  and  I  did  nothing.  They  gave  me 
cartridges,  blankets,  sugar,  and  coffee,  until  the  old 
pack-pony  could  carry  no  more.  The  big  chief  of 
the  white  men  wanted  me  to  stay  with  him,  and 
promised  to  give  me  anything  I  wanted  from  the 
wagons.  He  talked  long  with  the  warriors,  asking 
them  to  leave  me  with  him,  and  the  Absaroke  said 


72  JOHN   ERMINE 

he  could  have  me,  but  I  did  not  want  to  stay.  At  one 
time  I  thought  the  white  soldiers  were  going  to  make 
me  stay,  for  they  took  me  on  their  shoulders  and 
carried  me  about  the  camp,  laughing  and  yelling.  I 
was  afraid.  Those  men  were  bigger  than  Indians, 
and,  father,  their  arms  were  as  hard  and  strong  as 
the  gray  bear's.  They  were  always  laughing ;  they 
roared  like  the  buffalo  bulls. 

"  My  color  is  the  same  as  theirs,  father ;  many  of 
them  had  hair  like  mine,  though  they  cut  it  short. 
I  am  a  Crow,  but  I  do  not  understand  these  things." 
Whereat  the  boy  fell  into  a  deep  meditation. 

Cautiously  the  hermit  approached.  "Your  heart 
warms  to  the  white  man,  does  it  not,  my  son  ? " 

"Yes,  all  white  men  are  good  to  me;  they  give 
me  everything  I  want ;  they  are  rich,  and  their  hearts 
are  big.  They  do  not  know  how  to  keep  their  horses ; 
they  are  fools  about  them,  and  they  mount  from  the 
wrong  side.  I  never  heard  a  white  man  speak  to  a 
horse  in  that  camp.  When  they  walk  up  to  a  pony, 
the  pony  does  not  know  whether  they  come  as  a 
friend  or  an  enemy.  Some  day  I  am  going  to 
Ashar-Ra,^  where  the  white  soldiers  live.  They  told 
me  that  when  I  came  they  would  load  my  pony 
down  with  gifts.  But  I  must  first  learn  to  talk  as 
you  do,  father." 

Here,  at  last,  was  light  to  brighten  the  hopes  of 
the  hermit.  The  boy's  ambition  had  been  aroused. 
What  if  he  had  gone  to  war,  and  what  if  he  did  have 

Fort  Ellis, 


JOHN   ERMINE  73 

the  much-treasured  scalp  in  his  possession  ?  He  had 
only  followed  the  hermit's  advice  to  his  tribe  con- 
cerning war.  Then,  too,  the  old  man  had  picked  up 
newspapers  at  the  traders'  which  told  of  the  invasion 
of  the  Black  Hills  by  the  white  miners.  He  knew 
this  would  provoke  war  with  the  Sioux,  and  it  oc- 
curred to  him  that  the  best  possible  way  to  introduce 
White  Weasel  to  his  own  people  would  be  through 
contact  with  the  army.  He  could  go  with  them,  and 
they  might  reclaim  him.  He  could  not  possibly  go 
through  the  industrial  institutions,  but  he  must  speak 
English.  There  was  plenty  of  time  for  that,  since 
he  could  kill  elk  within  a  mile  of  his  door  with  which 
to  maintain  himself.     He  would  begin. 

"  Yes,  you  must  work  hard  with  me  now  to  speak 
as  the  white  men  do.  You  will  soon  be  a  man ;  you 
are  no  longer  a  boy.  You  are  a  white  man,  but  you 
were  brought  up  by  the  Absaroke,  and  you  will  go 
back  to  your  own  people  some  day.  The  more  you 
see  them,  the  better  you  will  like  them." 

"Why  must  I  go  to  the  white  people,  father.? 
You  do  not  go  to  them,  and  you  are  a  white  man." 

The  hunchback  hermit  leaned  with  his  head  on 
his  hands  for  a  long  time ;  he  had  not  foreseen  this. 
Finally,  "  You  will  go  because  they  are  your  own 
people;  you  will  join  them  when  they  fight  the 
Sioux.  You  think  there  are  not  many  of  them. 
Weasel,  I  am  not  a  liar,  and  I  say  there  are  more 
white  men  on  the  earth  than  there  are  buffalo.  You 
are  young,  you  are  brave,  and  you  are  straight  in  the 


74  JOHN   ERMINE 

back ;  their  hearts  will  warm  toward  you.  You  will 
grow  to  be  a  white  chief  and  own  many  wagons  of 
coffee  and  sugar.  Some  day,  Weasel,  you  will  want 
a  white  woman  for  a  wife.  You  have  never  seen  a 
white  woman  ;  they  are  not  like  these  red  squaws ; 
they  are  as  beautiful  as  the  morning,  and  some  day 
one  of  them  will  build  a  fire  in  your  heart  which 
nothing  but  death  can  put  out. 

"  From  now  on  I  shall  no  longer  call  you  White 
Weasel,  but  will  give  you  a  white  name  which  you 
must  answer  to.  There  shall  be  no  Indian  mystery 
about  it,  and  you  shall  bear  it  all  your  life.  I  will  call 
you,"  —  and  here  the  hermit  again  relapsed  into 
thought. 

"  I  will  call  you  John  Ermine ;  that  is  a  good  strong 
white  name,  and  when  you  are  asked  what  it  is,  do  not 
say  White  Weasel,  —  say,  *  My  name  is  John  Ermine.' 
Now  say  it !  "  And  the  young  man  ran  the  thing  over 
his  tongue  like  a  treble  drag  on  a  snare-drum. 

"  Now  again,  after  me :  *  My  —  name  —  is  —  John 
Ermine.'  "  And  the  prophet  cut  the  words  apart  with 
his  forefinger. 

John  Ermine  tried  his  name  again  and  again, 
together  with  other  simple  expressions.  The  her- 
mit ceased  almost  to  address  him  in  the  Indian 
tongue.  The  broad  forehead  responded  promptly  to 
the  strain  put  upon  it.  Before  the  snow  came,  the 
two  had  rarely  to  use  the  harsh  language  of  the 
tribesmen.  Gradually  the  pressure  was  increased, 
and  besides  words  the  hermit  imposed  ideas.     These 


JOHN   ERMINE  75 

took  root  and  grew  in  an  alarming  way  after  battling 
strenuously  with  those  he  had  imbibed  during  his 
youth. 

"And  why  is  your  name  Crooked-Bear,  which  is 
Indian,  while  you  are  white  ? " 

'*  My  name  is  not  Crooked-Bear  except  to  the 
Indians;  my  name  is  Richard  Livingston  Merril, 
though  I  have  not  heard  the  sound  of  it  in  many 
snows  and  do  not  care  to  hear  it  in  many  more. 
You  can  call  me  *  Comrade ' ;  that  is  my  name  when 
you  speak." 

Sitting  by  their  cabin  door  in  the  flecked  sun- 
light which  the  pine  trees  distributed,  the  two  waded 
carefully  across  the  lines  of  some  well-thumbed 
book,  taking  many  perilous  flying  leaps  over  the 
difficult  words,  but  going  swiftly  along  where  it 
was  unseasoned  Saxon.  The  prophet  longed  for  a 
paper  and  pencil  to  accelerate  the  speed,  but  was 
forced  to  content  himself  with  a  sharp  stick  and  the 
smoothed-out  dirt  before  him.  At  times  he  sprinkled 
his  sensitive  plant  with  some  simple  arithmetic ;  again 
he  lectured  on  the  earth,  the  moon,  and  the  stars. 
John  Ermine  did  not  leave  a  flat  earth  for  a  round 
one  without  a  struggle,  but  the  tutor  ended  up  by 
carving  a  wooden  ball  which  he  balanced  in 
his  hand  as  he  separated  the  sea  from  the 
land;  he  averred  that  he  had  known  many  men 
who  had  been  entirely  around  it  —  which  statement 
could  not  be  disputed. 

White  Weasel  had  heard  the  men  speak  about  the 


76  JOHN   ERMINE 

talking-wire  and  fire-wagon,  but  he  did  not  believe 
the  tales.  John  Ermine  had  more  faith,  although  it 
puzzled  him  sorely.  Raptly  he  listened  to  the  long 
accounts  of  the  many  marvels  back  in  the  States, 
and  his  little  Sioux  scalp  took  a  new  significance 
as  he  tried  hard  to  comprehend  ten  thousand  men 
dying  in  a  single  battle  of  the  Great  White  Man's 
war.  Ten  thousand  dead  men  was  a  severe  strain 
on  his  credulity  when  Crooked-Bear  imposed  it 
upon  him.  The  ships  which  fought  on  the  water 
he  did  not  attempt  at  all ;  they  were  not  vivid  enough 
for  his  contemplation. 

When  were  the  white  men  coming  to  the  Indian 
lands  ? 

"  Before  you  have  a  mustache,  John  Ermine,  they 
will  come  in  numbers  as  great  as  the  grasshoppers, 
but  you  will  not  care ;  you  are  a  white  man." 

Last  but  not  least  the  prophet  removed  himself 
from  his  Indian  pedestal  in  full  sight  of  his  ward. 
He  was  no  prophet;  he  was  only  a  man,  and  a 
poor  specimen  at  that.  Simply,  and  divested  of 
much  perplexity,  he  taught  the  Christian  religion; 
told  the  story  of  Jesus,  and  had  John  Ermine  repeat 
the  Ten  Commandments,  which  last  the  teacher  could 
only  marshal  after  many  days  of  painful  reflection,  so 
vagrant  are  most  men's  memories  as  age  creeps  on. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TRANSFORMATION 

FOUR  years  were  passed  by  John  Ermine  in 
the  cabin  of  the  old  man  of  the  mountains, 
varied  by  visits  to  the  Absaroke,  which  grew 
less  frequent  as  he  progressed  along  the  white 
man's  road,  rude  though  the  hermit's  was.  In  the 
reflected  light  of  the  prophet  he  had  a  more  than 
ordinary  influence  with  the  Indians.  As  his  mind 
expanded,  he  began  to  comprehend  their  simplicity, 
and  exactly  why  Crooked-Bear,  who  did  not  violate 
their  prejudices,  could  lead  them  by  better  paths. 

The  relationship  of  the  two  lonely  men  grew  closer, 
and  under  the  necessity  of  the  case  the  hermit  took 
Ermine  to  a  mountain  ravine  some  little  distance 
from  his  camp.  Here  he  operated  a  sluice,  in  con- 
nection with  a  placer,  in  a  desultory  way,  by  which 
he  was  able  to  hive  up  enough  gold  dust  to  fill  his 
wants  from  the  traders.  He  exacted  a  promise  from 
the  lad  that  come  what  would  he  must  never,  by  word 
or  action,  reveal  the  existence  of  this  place.  The 
hermit  wanted  only  enough  to  cover  his  wants  during 
his  lifetime,  and  if  no  one  located  the  place,  Ermine 
could  use  it  as  he  saw  fit  in  after  years.     It  would  al- 

77 


78  JOHN   ERMINE 

ways  supply  his  needs,  and  when  the  white  men  came, 
as  they  surely  would,  the  boy  might  develop  the  prop- 
erty, but  all  would  be  lost  without  absolute  secrecy. 
Even  the  Indians  did  not  know  of  the  placer ;  they 
always  explained  to  the  traders,  when  questioned 
concerning  the  hermit's  gold  dust,  that  he  made  it 
himself;  his  medicine  was  strong,  etc.  This  they 
believed,  and  no  trader  could  get  farther.  Beyond 
the  understanding  that  gold  dust  represented  the  few 
things  necessary  to  their  simple  lives,  John  Ermine 
cared  no  more  for  it  than  did  the  blue  jays  or  the 
Arctic  hares.  The  thing  did  not  interest  him  beyond 
a  rather  intense  dislike  of  the  work  entailed. 

The  hermit  had  often  told  him  the  story  of  himself 
and  his  gold.  Years  ago  he  had  left  the  States,  follow- 
ing the  then  gentle  tide  of  adventurers  who  sought 
fortunes  or  found  death  in  the  unknown  hills.  He 
wanted  forgetfulness,  but  his  fellows  craved  gold. 
On  one  occasion  he  formed  an  alliance  with  a  pros- 
pecting miner  and  an  old  trapper,  relict  of  the  fur- 
trading  days,  to  go  to  a  place  in  the  Indian  country, 
where  the  latter  had  in  his  wanderings  discovered  a 
placer.  They  outfitted  in  Lewiston,  Idaho,  and 
guided  surely  by  the  hunter,  had  reached  the  present 
scene  of  the  hermit's  domicile  without  accident. 
Finding  their  hopes  realized,  they  built  the  log  cabin 
against  the  rock  wall. 

As  he  told  it :  "  We  found  the  quartz-float,  and  the 
miner  followed  it  with  a  gold-pan.  We  were  sur- 
prised to  find  we  obtained  colors  almost  from  the 


TRANSFORMATION  79 

first.  We  built  the  cabin,  and  put  in  our  spare  time 
in  turning  the  water  from  the  creek  to  one  side  of 
the  gulch,  so  that  we  could  get  the  sluice-hoxes  in 
place,  and  a  proper  flow  for  them,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  work  the  gravel  in  the  bottom  of  the  creek 
without  being  inconvenienced  by  too  great  a  flow  of 
water.  All  this  time  we  followed  the  trail  to  and 
from  the  cabin  along  the  rock  ledge,  where  no  one 
but  a  goat  would  be  apt  to  find  it ;  and  in  every  way 
we  were  careful  not  to  attract  wandering  Indian 
hunters  to  ourselves. 

"  The  miner  worked  slowly  up  the  creek  to  where 
the  gold  became  richer,  until  it  finally  petered  out. 
He  was  then  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  metal.  This  set  him  to  thinking  that  he 
must  have  been  working  below  a  ledge  where  the 
gold  originated.  He  then  began  to  prospect  for  the 
lode  itself,  which,  after  due  disappointment  and 
effort,  we  found.  It  is  the  ledge  which  I  have 
shown  you.  Ermine.  The  thing  was  buried  in  debris^ 
and  a  discoloration  of  iron  stains  had  confused  the 
miner.  He  told  me  that  the  quartz  would  go  a  hun- 
dred dollars  to  the  ton,  and  would  make  us  all  rich 
some  day.  Of  course  we  did  nothing  with  that,  be- 
ing content,  for  the  present,  with  the  gravel. 

"  We  were  high  up  on  the  range,  away  from  any 
divides,  and  felt  safe  from  wandering  Indians.  They 
could  discover  us  only  by  chance,  but  by  chance  they 
did.  One  morning,  when  we  had  nearly  completed 
the  cabin,  and  were  putting  on  the  finishing  touches, 


8o  JOHN   ERMINE 

I  was  cooking  at  the  fire  when  I  heard  a  number  of 
gunshots  on  the  outside.  I  sprang  to  the  half- 
opened  door,  and  saw  my  two  friends  on  the  ground ; 
one  was  dead,  and  the  other  was  roUing  about  in 
agony  on  the  pine-needles.  A  half-dozen  Indians 
rushed  out  of  the  timber  and  soon  finished  their 
bloody  work.  I  was  so  overcome,  so  unnerved,  by 
the  sudden  and  awful  sight,  that  I  could  not  move 
my  hands  or  feet.  Strangely  enough,  the  Indians 
did  not  immediately  advance  on  the  cabin,  fearing 
hostile  shots.  Since  then  I  have  found  out  that  they 
knew  by  our  tracks  there  were  three  of  us.  Taking 
positions  behind  trees,  they  waited.  In  the  still  air 
I  could  hear  them  talk  to  each  other.  I  considered 
my  situation  hopeless,  but  very  gradually  regained  my 
nerve.  Knowing  I  could  not  defend  the  cabin,  my 
mind  acted  quickly,  as  often  a  man's  will  when  he  is 
in  such  desperate  straits.  Often  I  had  heard  the 
trapper,  who  had  lived  among  Indians  a  great  deal 
during  his  career,  tell  of  their  superstition,  their  rev- 
erence for  the  unusual,  and  their  tolerance  toward 
such  things.  At  this  time  I  cannot  analyze  the 
thought  that  came  to  me,  but  being  only  half 
dressed,  I  tore  off  my  clothes,  and  getting  on  all 
fours,  which  the  unusual  length  of  my  arms  made 
possible,  I  ran  out  of  the  cabin,  making  wild  noises 
and  grotesque  gestures.  My  faculties  were  so  shat- 
tered at  that  time  that  I  cannot  quite  recall  all  that 
happened.  The  Indians  did  not  fire  at  me,  nor  did 
they  appear  from  behind  the  trees.     Growing  weary 


TRANSFORMATION  8i 

of  these  antics,  and  feeling  it  was  best  not  to  prolong 
the  situation,  I  worked  my  way  toward  them.  If 
before  this  I  had  been  frightened,  when  I  came  near 
two  or  three  of  these  savages,  and  could  look  at 
them,  it  was  easily  seen  that  they  were  out  of  their 
minds.  They  were  prepared  for  a  man,  but  not  for 
me.  Straightening  up,  I  walked  directly  to  one  of 
them  and  glared  into  his  eyes.  If  I  looked  as  wild 
as  I  felt,  I  do  not  wonder  at  his  amazement.  He 
dropped  his  gun,  and  bawled  out  in  his  native  tongue, 
which,  of  course,  at  that  time  I  did  not  understand. 
I  answered  in  a  soft  voice,  which  chimed  in  well  with 
his  harsh  howling.  Presently  the  others  came  and 
gathered  round  me.  I  spoke  in  a  declamatory  man- 
ner for  a  long  time,  and  one  of  them  addressed  some 
broken  English  to  me.  That  man  was  Half-Moon, 
whom  you  know ;  there  is  French  blood  in  him,  and 
he  had  been  with  the  traders,  where  he  had  picked  up 
barely  enough  English  to  make  himself  understood. 

"  He  asked  me  if  I  was  a  man,  and  I  said,  *  No, 
I  was  sent  here  by  the  Great  Spirit.'  I  pointed  to 
the  sky,  and  then  patted  the  earth,  saying  I  lived  in 
both  places,  and  that  when  I  had  seen  them  kill 
white  men  I  had  come  out  of  the  ground  to  tell 
them  that  the  Great  Spirit  was  angry,  and  that  they 
must  not  do  it  again.  Oh,  when  I  saw  the  weather 
clearing  before  me,  I  piled  in  my  trumps  ;  I  remem- 
bered an  actor  named  Forrest,  whom  you  do  not  know, 
of  course,  but  he  had  a  way  with  him  which  I  copied 
most  accurately. 
a 


Si  JOHN   ERMINE 

"  The  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  I  gained  their  con- 
fidence, and  felt  they  would  not  molest  me  so  long  as 
I  could  retain  it.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  get  out 
of  their  country,  for  there  was  no  place  in  the  world 
that  suited  me  better.  All  of  my  worldly  possessions 
were  here,  and  once  over  the  shock  of  the  encounter, 
I  did  not  especially  value  my  life.  You  know  the 
rest ;  no  Crow  comes  near  me,  or  even  into  this  par- 
ticular locality,  except  for  reasons  of  Church  and 
State.  They  have  been  good  to  me,  and  I  mean  to 
return  it  in  so  far  as  I  can  by  my  superior  under- 
standing of  the  difficulties  which  beset  the  tribe. 
My  crooked  back  served  me  its  only  good  turn 
then." 

The  Sioux  and  Cheyennes  were  pressed  by  the 
white  tide  from  the  south.  It  came  curling  in,  roller 
after  roller,  despite  the  treaties  with  their  government 
and  in  spite  of  the  Indians  who  rode  the  country, 
hunting,  shooting,  burning,  and  harassing  the  in- 
vaders. The  gold  under  their  feet  drew  the  huge, 
senseless,  irresistible  mass  of  white  humanity  upon 
them.  It  surged  over  the  white  soldiers  who  came 
to  their  aid;  it  flooded  around  the  ends  and  crept 
between  the  crevices.  Finally  the  reprisals  of  the 
Indians  fused  the  white  soldiers  with  the  gold- 
hunters  :  it  was  war.  Long  columns  of  **  pony  sol- 
diers" and  "  walk-a-heaps "  and  still  longer  lines  of 
canvas-topped  wagons  trailed  snakelike  over  the 
buffalo  range.  The  redmen  hovered  and  swooped 
and  burned  the  dry  grass  ahead  of  them,  but  the 


TRANSFORMATION  83 

fire-spitting  ranks  crawled  hither  and  yon,  pressing 
the  Sioux  into  the  country  of  the  Crows,  where 
great  camps  were  formed  to  resist  the  soldiers.  The 
poor  Crows  fled  before  them,  going  into  the  moun- 
tain valleys  and  inaccessible  places  to  escape  the  war- 
ardor  of  the  now  thoroughly  enraged  enemy.  These 
were  lean  years  in  the  Absaroke  lodges.  Crooked- 
Bear  and  John  Ermine  dared  cook  their  food  only  in 
the  midday,  fearing  their  smoke  might  be  more  readily 
seen  in  the  quiet  light  of  morning  and  evening.  They 
trembled  after  every  shot  at  game,  not  knowing  to 
whose  ears  the  sound  might  carry. 

Crows  came  sneaking  into  their  camp,  keen,  scared, 
ghostlike  creatures  who  brought  news  of  the  conflict. 
Bands  of  Crows  had  gone  with  the  white  men  to  ride 
the  country  in  front  of  them.  The  white  men  could 
not  make  their  own  ponies  run ;  they  were  as  dull  as 
buffalo ;  they  travelled  in  herds,  but  when  they  moved 
forward,  no  Indians  could  stop  them. 

One  day,  through  the  shimmering  heat,  came  Wolf- 
Voice,  one  of  the  messengers,  with  the  tale  how  the 
Sioux  had  made  a  "  surround "  of  pony  soldiers  on 
the  Ease-ka-poy-tot-chee-archa-cheer^  and  covered  a 
hill  with  their  bodies.  But  said  this  one :  "  Still  the 
soldiers  come  crawling  into  the  country  from  all  sides. 
The  Sioux  and  the  buffalo  run  between  them.  I  am 
going  down  the  Yellowstone  to  help  the  white  men. 
The  soldiers  make  a  scout  rich." 

Crooked-Bear  spoke :  "  John  Ermine,  now  it  is 
1  Little  Big  Horn. 


84 


JOHN   ERMINE 


time  for  you  to  play  a  man's  part ;  you  must  go  with 
Wolf- Voice  to  the  soldiers.  I  would  go  myself  but 
for  my  crooked  back  and  the  fact  that  I  care  nothing 
for  either  belUgerents ;  their  contentions  mean  noth- 
ing to  me.    My  life  is  behind  me,  but  yours  is  in  front 


Wolf-Voice. 

of  you.  Begin ;  go  down  the  valley  of  the  Yellow- 
stone with  Wolf-Voice ;  if  the  Sioux  do  not  cut  you 
off,  you  will  find  the  soldiers.  Enlist  as  a  scout. 
I  am  sure  they  will  take  you." 

The  young  man  had  felt  that  this  hour  would  arrive, 
and  now  that  it  had  come  he  experienced  a  particular 


TRANSFORMATION  85 

elation.  Early  evening  found  him  at  the  door  of  the 
cabin,  mounted  on  one  horse  and  leading  his  war-pony 
beside  him.  The  good-by  word  was  all;  no  demon- 
stration on  the  part  of  either  man  to  indicate  feelings, 
although  they  both  were  conscious  of  the  seriousness  of 
the  parting.  The  horses  disappeared  among  the  trees, 
and  the  hermit  sat  down  before  his  hut,  intent  at  the 
blank  space  left  by  the  riders.  The  revolt  of  his 
strong,  sensitive  nature  against  his  fellows  had  been 
so  complete  that  he  had  almost  found  happiness  in 
the  lonely  mountains.  While  always  conscious  of  an 
overwhelming  loss,  he  held  it  at  bay  by  a  misanthropic 
philosophy.  This  hour  brought  an  acute  emptiness 
to  his  heart,  and  the  falling  shadows  of  the  night 
brooded  with  him.  Had  he  completed  his  work,  had 
he  fulfilled  his  life,  was  he  only  to  sit  here  with  his 
pale,  dead  thoughts,  while  each  day  saw  the  fresh 
bones  of  free  and  splendid  animals  bleach  on  the 
hillsides  that  he  might  continue .?  He  was  not  un- 
usually morbid  for  a  man  of  his  tastes,  but  his 
thoughts  on  this  evening  were  sour.  "  Bah !  the 
boy  may  come  back ;  he  has  the  habits  of  an  Indian ; 
he  knows  how  to  glide  through  the  country  like  a 
coyote.  The  Sioux  will  not  catch  him,  and.  I  must 
wait  and  hope  to  see  my  good  work  consummated. 
Nature  served  that  boy  almost  as  scurvy  a  trick  as 
she  did  me,  but  I  thwarted  her,  d her !  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PLAYING  A   MAN*S  PART 

HE  two  men  rode  silently,  one  behind 
the  other,  trailing  their  led 
ponies ;  the  hoofs  of  their 
horses  going  out  in  sound  on 
the  pine-needles,  anon  cracking 
a  dead  branch  as  they  stepped 
over  fallen  timber,  or  grunting 
under  the  strain  of  steep  hill- 
sides. Far  across  the  wide  valley  the  Shoshone 
range  suddenly  lost  its  forms  and  melted  into  blue- 
black  against  the  little  light  left  by  the  sun,  which 
sank  as  a  stone  does  in  water.  In  swift  pursuit  of 
her  warrior  husband,  came  She  of  the  night,  soft  and 
golden,  painting  everything  with  her  quiet,  restful 
colors,  and  softly  soothing  the  fevers  of  day  with  her 
cooling  lotions. 

Wolf- Voice  and  John  Ermine  emerged  from  the 
woods,  dog-trotting  along  on  their  ponies  after  the 
fashion  of  Indian  kind.  Well  they  knew  the  decep- 
tions of  the  pale  light ;  while  it  illumined  the  way  a 
few  steps  ahead,  it  melted  into  a  protecting  gloom 
within  an  arrow's-flight.      An  unfortunate  meeting 

86 


PLAYING  A   MAN'S  PART  87 

with  the  enemy  would  develop  a  horse-race  where 
numbers  counted  for  no  more  than  the  swiftest  horse 
and  the  rider  who  quirted  most  freely  over  the  coulee 
or  dog-town.  The  winner  of  such  races  was  generally 
the  one  who  had  the  greatest  interest  at  stake  in  the 
outcome,  —  the  hunted,  not  the  hunter. 

As  the  two  riders  expected,  they  traversed  the 
plains  without  incident,  forded  the  rivers,  and  two 
hours  before  sunrise  were  safely  perched  on  the  op- 
posite range,  high  enough  to  look  down  on  the  eagles. 
These  vast  stretches  of  landscape  rarely  showed  signs 
of  human  life.  One  unaccustomed  to  them  would  as 
soon  expect  to  find  man  or  horses  walking  the  ocean's 
bed ;  their  loneliness  was  akin  to  the  antarctic  seas. 
That  was  how  it  seemed,  not  how  it  was.  The  fierce 
savages  who  skulked  through  the  cuts  and  seams  made 
by  erosion  did  not  show  themselves,  but  they  were 
there  and  might  appear  at  any  moment ;  the  desert 
brotherhood  knew  this,  and  well  considered  their  foot- 
steps. Seated  on  a  rock  pinnacle,  amid  brushwood, 
one  man  slept  while  the  other  watched.  Long  before 
nightfall  they  were  again  in  motion.  Around  the 
camp,  Indians  are  indolent,  but  on  the  war-path  their 
exertions  are  ceaseless  to  the  point  of  exhaustion.  It 
was  not  possible  to  thread  their  way  through  the 
volcanic  gashes  of  the  mountains  by  night,  but  while 
light  lasted  they  skirted  along  their  slopes  day  after 
day,  killing  game  with  arrows  which  Wolf-Voice 
carried  because  of  their  silence  and  economy. 

These  two  figures,  crawling,  sliding,  turning,  and 


88  JOHN   ERMINE 

twisting  through  the  sunlight  on  the  rugged  moun- 
tains, were  grotesque  but  harmonious.  America  will 
never  produce  their  like  again.  Her  wheels  will 
turn  and  her  chimneys  smoke,  and  the  things  she 
makes  will  be  carried  round  the  world  in  ships,  but 
she  never  can  make  two  figures  which  will  bear  even 
a  remote  resemblance  to  Wolf -Voice  and  John  Ermine. 
The  wheels  and  chimneys  and  the  white  men  have 
crowded  them  off  the  earth. 

Buckskin  and  feathers  may  swirl  in  the  tan-bark 
rings  to  the  tune  of  Money  Musk,  but  the  meat-eaters 
who  stole  through  the  vast  silences,  hourly  snatching 
their  challenging  war-locks  from  the  hands  of  death, 
had  a  sensation  about  them  which  was  independent 
of  accessories.  Their  gaunt,  hammer-headed,  grass- 
bellied,  cat-hammed,  roach-backed  ponies  went  with 
them  when  they  took  their  departure ;  the  ravens  fly 
high  above  their  intruding  successors,  and  the  wolves 
which  sneaked  at  their  friendly  heels  only  lift  their 
suspicious  eyes  above  a  rock  on  a  far-off  hill  to  follow 
the  white  man's  movements.  Neither  of  the  two 
mentioned  people  reahzed  that  the  purpose  of  the 
present  errand  was  to  aid  in  bringing  about  the 
change  which  meant  their  passing. 

Wolf-Voice  had  no  family  tree.  It  was  enough 
that  he  arrived  among  the  traders  speaking  Gros 
Ventre;  but  a  man  on  a  galloping  horse  could  see 
that  his  father  was  no  Gros  Ventre;  he  blew  into 
the  Crow  camp  on  some  friendly  wind,  prepared  to 
make  his  thoughts  known  in  his  mother  tongue  or 


PLAYING   A   MAN'S  PART  89 

to  embellish  it  with  Breed-French  or  Chinook;  he 
had  sought  the  camp  of  the  white  soldiers  and  added 
to  his  Absaroke  sundry  "  God-damns "  and  other 
useful  expressions  needed  in  his  business.  He  was 
a  slim  fellow  with  a  massive  head  and  a  restless 
soul ;  a  seeker  after  violence,  with  wicked  little 
black  eyes  which  glittered  through  two  narrow  slits 
and  danced  Uke  drops  of  mercury.  His  dress  was 
buckskin,  cut  in  the  red  fashion;  his  black  hat 
had  succumbed  to  time  and  moisture,  while  a  huge 
skinning-knife  strapped  across  his  stomach,  together 
with  a  brass-mounted  Henry  rifle,  indicated  the  dan- 
ger zone  one  would  pass  before  reaching  his  hair. 

At  a  distance  John  Ermine  was  not  so  different; 
but,  closer,  his  yellow  braids,  strongly  vermilioned 
skin,  and  open  blue  eyes  stared  hard  and  fast  at 
your  own,  as  emotionless  as  if  furnished  by  a  taxi- 
dermist. His  coat  was  open  at  the  front  as  the 
white  men  made  them;  he  wore  blanket  breeches 
encased  at  the  bottom  in  hard  elkskin  leggings 
bound  at  the  knee.  He  also  carried  a  fire-bag,  the 
Spencer  repeating  carbine  given  him  by  his  comrade, 
together  with  an  elk-horn  whip.  In  times  past 
Ermine  had  owned  a  hat,  but  long  having  outlived 
the  natural  life  of  any  hat,  it  had  finally  refused  to 
abide  with  him.  In  lieu  of  this  he  had  bound  his 
head  with  a  yellow  handkerchief,  beside  which 
poHshed  brass  would  have  been  a  dead  and  lonely 
brown.  His  fine  boyish  figure  swayed  like  a  tule 
in  the  wind,  to  the  motions  of  his  pony.     His  mind 


90  JOHN   ERMINE 

was  reposeful  though  he  was  going  to  war  —  going 
to  see  the  white  men  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much 
from  his  tutor;  going  to  associate  with  the  people 
who  lost  "ten  thousand  men"  in  a  single  battle 
and  who  did  not  regard  it  as  wonderful.  He  had 
seen  a  few  of  these  after  the  Long-Horse  fight,  but 
he  was  younger  and  did  not  understand.  He  un- 
derstood now,  however,  and  intended  to  drink  his 
eyes  and  feast  his  mind  to  satiety  on  the  people 
of  whom  he  was  one. 

As  the  sun  westered,  the  two  adventurers  blinded 
their  trail  in  the  manner  most  convenient  at  the 
time;  a  thing  not  so  difficult  to  do  in  the  well-watered 
northwest  as  in  the  dry  deserts  of  the  south ;  besides 
which  the  buffalo-hunting,  horse-using  Indians  were 
not  the  equals  of  the  mountain  foot  brethren  in  fol- 
lowing trails.  After  doing  this  they  doubled  and 
twisted  back  on  their  track.  While  the  sun  was 
yet  bright  they  broiled  their  evening  meat  on  a  tiny 
fire  of  dry  sticks.  Blowing  the  tobacco  smoke  to 
the  four  corners  of  the  earth.  Wolf -Voice  said :  "  We 
will  be  rich,  brother,  if  the  Sioux  do  not  get  a  chance 
to  dry  our  hair;  the  soldiers  always  make  their 
scouts  rich ;  there  is  plenty  to  eat  in  their  wagons, 
and  cartridges  cost  nothing.  The  soldiers  always 
fight ;  they  are  like  the  gray  bears,  —  they  do  not 
know  any  better,  —  and  then  is  the  time  when  we 
must  watch  close  to  get  away  before  the  Sioux  have 
an  advantage  of  them.  They  are  fools  and  cannot 
run.      They  are  tied  to  the  ground.      If  you  get  a 


PLAYING  A  MAN'S   PART  91 

chance  to  carry  the  talking  papers  from  one  white 
chief  to  another,  they  pour  the  money  into  your 
blanket.  I  have  never  had  a  paper  to  carry,  but  I 
think  they  will  give  you  one.  If  they  do,  brother, 
we  will,  take  the  silver  and  get  one  of  the  white  sol- 
diers to  buy  us  a  bottle  of  whiskey  from  the  sutler." 
And  Wolf -Voice's  malignant  features  relaxed  into  a 
peaceful  state  which  made  Ermine  laugh  outright. 

A  bottle  of  whiskey  and  ten  thousand  dead  men  — 
quite  a  difference,  thought  Ermine.  "That  is  it  — 
that  is  it,"  continued  the  musing  white  man  to  him- 
self ;  "  he  goes  to  war  for  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  and  I 
go  for  ten  thousand  men."  His  unframed  thoughts 
wrestled  and  twisted,  lined  and  rounded,  the  idea  of 
ten  thousand  men;  yet  the  idea  never  took  a  form 
which  satisfied  him.  Ten  thousand  buffalo  —  yes, 
he  had  calculated  their  mass;  he  had  seen  them. 
Ten  thousand  trees  —  that,  too,  he  could  arrange; 
he  had  blocked  them  out  on  the  mountain-side.  But 
there  were  many  times  ten  thousand  men  who  had 
not  been  killed;  that  he  gave  up  altogether. 
Nothing  had  saved  him  but  blind  faith  in  his  old 
comrade. 

Leaving  the  mountains  again,  they  stalked  over 
the  moon-lit  land  more  like  ghosts  than  men,  and  by 
day  they  lay  so  low  that  the  crawUng  ants  were  their 
companions.  By  the  Elk^  River  Wolf-Voice  pointed 
to  a  long,  light  streak  which  passed  through  the  sage- 
brush :  **  Brother,  that  is  the  sign  of  the  white  men. 

1  Indian  for  Yellowstone. 


92  JOHN   ERMINE 

The  buffalo,  when  they  pass  once,  do  not  make  a 
deeper  path  than  that,  and,  brother,  what  is  that  in 
the  roard  which  shows  so  bright  ? " 

Appropriating  the  gleaming  thing,  the  Indian 
reached  from  his  pony  and  picked  it  up,  holding  it 
close  to  his  eyes  for  a  moment  before  passing  it  to  his 
companion.     "  What  is  that,  brother  ? " 

Ermine  examined  it  closely,  turning  it  in  the  moon- 
light. **I  do  not  know;  it  is  a  paper;  I  will  keep 
it  until  dayUght." 

A  few  steps  ahead  was  found  another  glistening 
article,  dropped  by  the  passing  soldiers.  They  knew 
what  that  was ;  it  was  the  canteen,  lost  on  the  march, 
by  a  pony  soldier.     Wolf -Voice  appropriated  it. 

"  We  must  not  stay  here ;  the  trail  is  old,  but  the 
Sioux  will  be  near  the  soldiers.  They  are  between 
us  and  the  white  men ;  you  may  be  sure  of  that, 
brother,"  said  one ;  and  the  four  ponies  stumbled  off 
through  the  sage-brush,  melting  into  the  night. 

They  stopped  for  the  day  at  the  head  of  a  rocky 
coulee,  eating  dried  meat  for  fear  of  making  a  smoke. 
Ermine  drew  the  paper  from  his  pocket,  laid  it  on 
the  ground  before  him,  and  regarded  it  for  a  few 
moments ;  then  he  turned  it  round,  seeing  it  was  up- 
side down  by  the  writing  on  the  bottom.  *'  Bogardus," 
he  read  on  the  left-hand  corner.  The  image  on 
the  card  spread,  opened,  and  flowered  in  Ermine's 
mind ;  it  was  a  picture  —  that  was  plain  now ;  it  was 
a  photograph  such  as  he  had  heard  Crooked-Bear  tell 
about  —  an  image  from  the  sun.     He  had  never  seen 


PLAYING   A   MAN'S  PART  93 

one  before.  Wolf-Voice  bent  his  beady  eyes  on  the 
black  and  white  thing,  but  it  suggested  nothing  to 
him.  Nature  had  not  been  black  and  white  to  his 
scarlet  vision.  The  rude  conventionalized  lines 
painted  on  the  buffalo-robes  differentiated  buffalo, 
ponies,  and  men,  but  this  thing  — ''  Humph  !  "  —  he 
lighted  his  pipe. 

Before  the  persistent  gaze  of  Ermine  the  face  of  a 
young  woman  unravelled  itself  from  a  wonderful  head- 
gear and  an  unknown  frock.  The  eyes  looked  into 
his  with  a  long,  steady,  and  hypnotic  gaze.  The 
gentle  face  of  the  image  fascinated  the  lad ;  it  stirred 
his  imagination  and  added  **  a  beautiful  white  woman  " 
to  his  "  ten-thousand-dead-men  "  quest.  Wolf -Voice 
had  to  call  him  twice  to  take  his  watch,  saying  as  he 
lay  down,  "  Put  the  paper  away,  brother ;  it  takes 
your  eyes  from  the  Sioux." 

The  travellers  could  not  make  long  journeys  in  the 
short  summer  nights  through  the  open  country,  and 
exercise  a  proper  vigilance  at  the  same  time.  The 
moon  rose  later  every  night,  thus  cutting  their  time. 
Neither  did  they  see  any  signs  of  human  beings  or 
know  where  to  find  the  white  men ;  but  recourse  to 
the  trail  along  the  river,  from  time  to  time,  assured 
them  that  the  wagons  had  continued  down  the  stream. 
The  trail  was  very  old,  and  was  full  of  Indian  pony- 
tracks  which  had  followed  it. 

One  day  as  they  lay  in  a  washout,  Wolf-Voice 
pointed  to  columns  of  dust  far  to  the  south.  Was 
it  buffalo,  Indians,  or  soldiers  ?     The  dust  stayed  all 


94  JOHN   ERMINE 

day  in  one  place ;  it  might  be  a  buffalo-surround  or 
big  herds  about  camps,  but  this  they  were  not  able  to 
determine. 

**  We  will  go  to  the  dust  this  sleep  and  we  will  ride 
the  war-horses ;  the  others  which  we  have  been  riding 
are  stiff  and  sore ;  we  will  leave  them  here  and  come 
after  them  if  we  can,"  spoke  Ermine  as  he  braided 
the  tail  of  his  favorite  pony.  When  Wolf-Voice's 
attention  was  directed  elsewhere,  he  took  his  medi- 
cine, the  dried  hoof  of  the  white  stalHon,  and  rubbed 
it  gently  on  his  pony's  heels.  The  prophet  would 
not  approve  of  this,  he  felt,  but  it  could  do  no  harm, 
since  he  also  prayed  God  to  make  his  pony  run  fast 
and  not  stumble,  to  blind  the  Sioux,  stop  their  ears, 
and  otherwise  to  cherish  appropriately  the  poor  life 
of  John  Ermine  who  believed  in  Him  and  now  wanted 
His  help. 

Slowly  they  made  their  way  south  through  the 
gloom,  trusting  their  range-bred  ponies  to  pick  out 
the  footing.  Hour  after  hour  they  stepped  along, 
stopping  at  intervals  to  listen. 

Late  at  night  as  they  made  their  way  down  a  long 
ridge,  they  heard  a  horse  whinny  somewhere  far  down 
in  one  of  the  breaks  of  the  land.  Without  a  word 
they  turned  away  from  the  noise.  Later  Wolf- Voice 
whispered  :  "  Indians ;  the  white  men  never  let  their 
horses  loose  in  the  night.  That  pony  was  alone,  or 
we  should  have  heard  more  sounds.  He  was  calling 
his  brothers.  Now  we  must  blind  our  trial;  their 
scouts  will  find  it  in  the  morning." 


PLAYING  A   MAN'S  PART  95 

Accordingly  they  allowed  their  horses  to  feed 
slowly  along,  not  attempting  to  guide  them,  and  after  a 
mile  felt  that  any  one  who  should  follow  those  tracks 
would  think  that  they  were  loose  horses  grazing.  By 
the  light  of  the  late  moon  they  made  their  way  more 
quickly,  but  always  stopping  to  separate  the  sounds 
of  the  night  —  the  good  sounds  from  the  bad.  They 
could  see  that  they  were  coming  to  the  river,  and  as 
they  rose  on  a  wave  of  the  land,  they  saw  a  few  faint 
sparks  glitter  far  down  the  valley. 

"It  is  the  white  soldiers  —  the  big  fires  of  the 
white  men,  brother.  We  will  go  in  when  the  sun 
comes  up.  If  we  should  go  near  them  now,  they 
would  fire  at  us.  The  white  men  shoot  at  anything 
which  moves  in  the  dark;  a  wolf  is  not  safe  near 
their  camps  when  the  sun  has  gone." 

Before  the  gray  of  morning  they  were  safely  en- 
sconced under  a  bluff,  waiting  for  the  daylight  and 
within  a  mile  of  the  long  line  of  Sibley  tents.  They 
heard  the  hungry  mule  chorus,  the  clank  of  chains, 
the  monotonous  calls  of  the  sentries ;  and  the  camp 
slowly  developed  before  their  eyes  like  a  photo- 
graphic negative  in  a  bath  of  chemicals ;  then  John 
Ermine  began  to  understand  ten  thousand  men. 

Softly  the  metallic  reveille  drifted  to  their  ears; 
it  spread  from  one  group  of  tents  to  another  until 
the  whole  air  danced  with  the  delightful  sound.  The 
watchers  on  the  sage-brush  hillside  were  preoccupied 
with  the  movements  of  the  soldiers.  They  listened 
to  the  trumpets  and  saw  the  men  answer  them  by 


96  JOHN   ERMINE 

forming  long  lines.  In  a  moment  the  lines  broke 
into  hurrying  individuals,  the  fires  began  to  send  up 
the  quiet  morning  smoke,  while  the  mule  chorus 
ceased. 

As  though  shot  out  of  the  ground  by  some  hidden 

force,  Wolf- Voice  bounded  up.    "  G d !  Mit- 

wit !  ^  Coo-ley ! "  ^  he  yelled,  and  as  responsive  as  a 
swallow  which  follows  the  swift  flight  of  another 
in  play.  Ermine  bounded  on  to  his  horse.  One  look 
behind  told  the  story.  The  Sioux  were  coming. 
He  saw  the  lightning  play  of  the  ponies'  legs, 
heard  the  whips  crack  on  their  quarters,  and  was 
away  like  a  flash,  bearing  hard  on  the  soldier  camp. 
Before  many  bounds  he  recovered  from  his  surprise  ; 
it  was  not  far,  and  his  horse  was  answering  the 
medicine.  He  had  never  run  like  this  before.  The 
Sioux  had  found  and  followed  their  trail  and  had 
nearly  caught  them  napping.  After  their  long 
journey  they  had  almost  been  cut  off  during  the 
last  mile  of  it.  Seeing  that  their  prey  had  escaped, 
the  Sioux  swerved  like  hawks,  pulling  up  on  the 
hill. 

Turning,  Wolf- Voice  and  Ermine  shouted  back 
taunts  at  them,  fired  their  guns  at  the  group,  and 
then  leisurely  loped  toward  the  camps.  While  yet 
quite  a  way  out,  three  white  soldiers  rose  suddenly 
from  a  dry  wash  with  their  rifles :  "  Halt !  Who 
goes  there .? " 

The    riders    drew  down    to    a  walk.   Wolf- Voice 

1  Get  up !  2  Run ! 


Halt!    Who  goes  there?"* 


PLAYING  A   MAN'S   PART  99 

raising  his  hand  in  the  peace  sign,  and  saying,  "  We 
are  your  frens,  we  aire  two  Crow  Enjun;  don' 
shoot ! "  and  continued  to  advance. 

The  soldiers  stood  with  their  guns  in  readiness, 
while  one  answered  :  "  Get  off  them  ponies ;  lay  your 
guns  on  the  ground.  I  guess  you  are  all  right." 
And  then,  looking  at  Ermine  with  a  laugh :  "  Is 
that  blonde  there  a  Crow  ?  Guess  them  Sioux  scared 
him  white.  I've  often  heard  tell  of  a  man's  hair 
turning  white  in  a  single  night," 

"  Ach  sure.  Bill,  and  it  don't  tourn  a  mon's  face  red 
to  be  schared  sthiff,"  observed  another  picket. 

The  faintest  suggestion  of  a  smile  stole  over  John 
Ermine  as  he  comprehended. 

"  No,  soldiers,  we  are  not  afraid.  Why  can't  you 
let  two  men  go  into  the  big  camp ;  are  all  those  sol- 
diers afraid  of  two  men  ?  "  And  the  pickets  laughed 
at  the  quaint  conjecture.  Shortly  an  officer  rode  up 
on  a  horse  and  questioned  Ermine. 

"Who  are  you.!*" 

"We  are  friends  of  the  white  people.  Did  you 
see  that  we  are  not  friends  of  the  Sioux .? " 

"  Yes ;  I  saw  those  Indians  chase  you.  Were 
they  Sioux .? " 

"  We  took  that  for  granted."  And  again  the 
corner  of  John  Ermine's  mouth  relaxed. 

"Yes,  of  course,  I  admire  your  judgment;  come 
with  me,"  replied  the  officer,  as  he  turned  to  ride 
back.  The  three  ambled  along  together.  "Who 
are  you?" 


loo  JOHN   ERMINE 

"  I  am  a  white  man,  and  my  comrade  is  an  Indian." 

"  What  is  your  name  ? " 

"My  name  is  John  Ermine,  and  I  want  to  be  a 
scout.     Will  you  take  me .?  " 

"That  is  not  my  business;  but  I  have  no  doubt 
the  proper  authority  will  be  glad  to  put  you  on  the 
pay-roll.  You  don't  seem  any  more  popular  with 
the  Sioux  than  we  are." 


CHAPTER  IX 


IN    CAMP 


THE  three  horsemen  jogged  into  camp,  and 
it  can  hardly  be  stated  who  was  the  more 
impressed  by  the  sight  —  John  Ermine  as 
he  passed  through  the  crowds  of  soldiers,  or  the 
soldiers  as  they  looked  at  the  bare-backed  rider 
with  the  yellow  braids  and  the  glaring  handker- 
chief. They  had  left  their  impedimenta  with  the 
worn-out  ponies  back  in  the  hills  with  little  hope  of 
recovering  them.  The  gathering  men  who  had  seen 
the  chase  gave  tokens  of  their  approval  by  yelling 
Ki-yis  in  imitation  of  the  Indians.  "Say,  Yellow, 
you're  no  brevet"  —  **You  wa'n't  crazy  to  wait  for 
them  Sioux  "  —  "  The  general  will  feed  you  on  mince- 
pie  "  —  "  You'll  be  a  sergeant  in  the  rag-bag  troop," 
and  other  expressions  numerous  and  'uncooked'  fell  on 

lOI 


?02  :  JOHK  ERMINE 

their  ears.  Ermine  felt  embarrassed  with  the  atten- 
tion of  so  many  people  centred  on  him,  but  his  face 
was  cut  to  stand  such  shocks.  His  swift  glances 
about  the  thronging  camp  began  to  illumine  the  "ten- 
thousand-men  "  proposition ;  he  saw  lines  of  tents, 
wagons  without  end,  but  no  women ;  he  would  have 
to  postpone  that  feast. 

The  officer  leading  stopped  in  front  of  a  tent 
around  which  many  officers  and  men  were  standing 
or  coming  and  going.  He  spoke  to  one  who  wore  a 
big  hat  and  a  split  blond  beard,  a  man  less  preten- 
tious in  his  garb  than  any  about  him,  but  whose  eye 
arrested  Ermine  by  the  commanding  keenness.  Dis- 
mounting, the  officer,  saluting,  said  :  "  General  Crook, 
these  two  men  were  just  chased  into  camp  by  Ind- 
ians. They  say  they  are  Crows,  or  at  least  from  the 
Crowis,  and  they  want  to  be  made  scouts." 

"What  Indians  chased  you.-*"  asked  the  general. 

"We  do  not  know ;  we  were  waiting  on  the  hill  to 
come  in  here  by  daylight ;  they  surprised  us,  and  we 
did  not  stop  to  talk  with  them,"  replied  John  Ermine. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from,  my  boy  ? "  he  con- 
tinued. 

"  I  came  from  the  Stinking  Water  country  to  help 
you  fight  the  Sioux  —  myself  and  Wolf- Voice  there," 
replied  Ermine. 

Turning  to  that  waif,  the  general  said,  "  Who  are 
you  ? " 

Patting  his  chest  impressively.  Wolf -Voice  spoke : 
"  Me  ?       My  mother  she  was  Gro  Ventre ;    I  am  a 


IN   CAMP  103 

warrior;  I  spak  de  English;  I  was  scout  with 
Yellow  Hair.^     I  am  brav  mans." 

"Umph  —  no  doubt,"  softly  hazarded  the  Gray 
Fox.  "  You  were  not  with  him  when  he  died  ?  I 
suppose  you  attended  to  that  matter  with  proper 
thoroughness.     Have  you  seen  any  Sioux  signs  .?  " 

"  Yaas  —  day  foliar  de  wagon,  dey  aire  leave  dar 
pony-track  all  roun  you." 

Once  fastening  his  quizzical  eyes  on  the  white  lad, 
the  general  asked,  "  Do  you  talk  Crow  ? " 

*'Yes." 

"  Can  you  make  the  hand  talk  ?  *' 

Ermine  gave  the  sign  for  "  Yes.'* 

*'  Have  you  ever  been  to  school  ? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Who  taught  you  to  speak  English  ?  " 

"  My  old  comrade,  Crooked-Bear,"  said  Ermine. 

"Crooked-Bear  —  Crooked-Bear,"  mused  the  gen- 
eral. "  Oh,  I  give  it  up,"  as  he  turned  away.  "  You 
are  not  one  of  the  Pike  County  breed,  it  seems  — 
Crooked-Bear  —  Crooked-Bear.  Take  them  to  the 
scout  camp,  Ferguson."  And  the  general  retired  to 
his  tent,  somewhat  perplexed  by  the  young  man's 
make-up. 

The  trio  went  on  toward  the  scout  camp,  and  as 
they  passed  a  man  on  foot  he  inquired  of  Ferguson, 
"  Where  did  you  get  that  pair  of  aces  ? " 

"  The  Sioux  dealt  them  to  me  this  morning ;  will 
they  fill  your  hand  .? " 

1  General  Custer. 


t04  JOHN   ERMINE 

"  Yes,  sir — think  they  will."  Then  to  John  Ermine, 
"  Do  you  savvy  this  country,  pardner  ?  " 

**  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  always  lived  in  this  country ^^ 
spoke  he,  with  a  wave  of  his  arm  around  the  horizon 
which  had  the  true  Indian  swing  to  it,  an  accom- 
pUshment  only  acquired  by  white  men  after  long 
years  of  association  with  the  tribes.  All  the  signs 
and  gestures  made  by  Indians  are  distinctive  with 
them  and  are  very  suggestive  from  their  constant 
use  of  the  sign  language.  The  old  chief  of  scouts 
recognized  the  significance  of  the  motion  on  the 
instant,  and  knew  that  one  who  could  make  it  very 
probably  possessed  the  other  qualifications  for  his 
corps. 

"  What  is  your  name } " 

**John  Ermine,  sir,"  came  the  answer.  The  "sir" 
had  been  an  acquisition  of  the  last  few  interviews. 
He  had  heard  it  from  the  mouth  of  Crooked-Bear 
on  infrequent  occasions,  but  his  quick  perceptions 
told  him  that  it  was  useful  in  these  canvas  towns. 

"  All  right.  Will  you  turn  these  men  over  to  me 
for  duty.  Lieutenant  Ferguson  ? "  spoke  the  chief  of 
scouts,  who  was  a  short  infantry  officer  with  a  huge 
yellow  mustache. 

"I  will,"  replied  Ferguson,  as  he  turned  his 
horse.  *'  Go  with  Captain  Lewis  there ;  and  good 
luck  to  you,  Mr.  Ermine." 

After  answering  certain  questions  by  the  chief 
of  scouts,  which  were  intended  to  prove  their 
fitness   for  the  job,  the  two  late  fugitives   had   the 


IN   CAMP 


105 


pleasure  of  knowing  that  Uncle  Sam  would  open 
his  wagons  to  them  in  return  for  their  hair  and 
blood  when  his  representative  should  order  the 
sacrifice.  Wolf- Voice  never  allowed  his  mind  to 
dwell  on  market  values,  and  John  Ermine  felt  that 
he  could  do  what  "  ten  thousand  men  "  were  willing 
to  do  in  an  emergency. 

Having  done  with  these 
formalities,  under  the  trained 
guidance  of  Wolf- Voice  the 
two  men  speedily  found  their 
way  to  the  scouts'  mess, 
where  they  took  a  hearty  toll 
of  the  government.  About 
the  cook  fire  squatted  or 
sprawled  the  allies  of  the 
white  troops.  There  were 
Crows  and  Indians  from  other 
tribes  —  together  with  half- 
breeds  whose  heraldic  em- 
blazonment ought  to  be  a 
pretty  squaw.  A  few  white  men  came  about  from 
time  to  time,  but  they  did  not  abide  with  the  regular 
crew.  New  faces  appeared  as  they  came  in  from 
the  hills  to  "cool  coffee." 

John  Ermine  walked  aimlessly  around  camp,  all  eyes 
and  ears.  No  backwoods  boy  at  a  country  fair  ever 
had  his  faculties  so  over-fed  and  clogged  as  he.  In 
turn  the  soldiers  attempted  to  engage  him  in  conver- 
sation as  he  passed  about  among  them,  but  the  hills 


Captain  Lewis. 


io6  JOHN   ERMINE 

had  put  a  seal  of  silence  on  his  lips ;  he  had  not  yet 
found  himself  amid  the  bustle. 

Remarks  which  grated  harshly  came  to  his  ears ; 
the  unkindness  of  them  undermined  the  admiration 
for  the  white  soldiers  which  the  gentle  treatment  of 
the  officers  had  instilled. 

"  Ain't  that  yellow  handkerchief  great  ?  "  —  **  Sure 
he'd  do  well  with  a  hand-organ  on  the  Bowery." 
— "  Is  he  a  square  shake  or  a  make-up  ? "  —  and 
other  loose  usage  of  idle  minds. 

"  Say,  Bill,  come  look  at  the  sorrel  Injun,"  sang 
one  trooper  to  another  who  stood  leaning  on  a  wagon- 
wheel  whittling  a  stick,  to  which  that  one  replied  : 
"You  take  my  advice  and  let  the  sorrel  Injun  alone; 
that  butcher  knife  on  his  belly  is  no  ornament." 

By  noon  Ermine's  mind  had  been  so  sloshed  and 
hail-stoned  with  new  ideas  that  his  head  was  tired. 
They  were  coming  so  fast  that  he  could  not  stow 
them,  so  he  found  his  way  back  to  the  scout  camp 
and  lay  down  on  a  stray  robe.  The  whole  thing  had 
not  impressed  him  quite  as  he  had  anticipated;  it 
had  a  raw  quality,  and  he  found  he  did  not  sift  down 
into  the  white  mass ;  he  had  a  longing  for  the  quiet 
of  Crooked-Bear's  cabin  — in  short,  John  Ermine  was 
homesick.  However,  after  a  few  hours'  sleep,  he 
became  hungry,  which  shifted  his  preoccupation  to 
a  less  morbid  channel. 

The  scouts  talked  excitedly  of  the  enemy  with 
whom  they  had  skirmished  out  on  the  hills ;  they  dis- 
cussed the  location  of  the  Sioux  camp,  and  speculated 


IN   CAMP  107 

on  the  intention  of  the  Gray  Fox.  Sunlight  or  fire- 
light never  in  the  ages  played  on  a  wilder  group  than 
this;  not  on  the  tribes  of  Asiatics  who  swarmed  in 
front  of  Alexander;  not  in  the  deserts  of  Northern 
Africa :  nor  on  the  steppes  of  Asia,  at  any  period,  did 
sun  or  fire  cut  and  color  cruder  men  than  these  who 
were  taking  the  long,  long  step  between  what  we 
know  men  are  and  what  we  think  they  were. 

A  soldier  stepped  briskly  into  the  group,  and  touch- 
ing Ermine  on  the  shoulder,  said,  **  The  Captain  wants 
to  see  you;  come  on."  He  followed  to  the  tent 
designated,  and  was  told  to  come  in  and  sit  down. 
The  officer  sat  opposite,  on  a  camp  stool,  and  after 
regarding  him  kindly  for  a  moment,  said :  "  Your 
name  is  John  Ermine  and  you  are  a  white  man. 
Where  were  you  born  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  Captain,  where  I  was  born,  but  I 
have  lived  all  my  life  with  the  Crows." 

"  Yes ;  but  they  did  not  teach  you  to  speak  Eng- 
lish." 

"  No ;  I  have  lived  some  years  with  my  old  com- 
rade up  in  the  mountains,  and  he  taught  me  to  speak 
English  and  to  write  it." 

"  Who  was  your  old  comrade,  as  you  call  him }  He 
must  have  been  an  educated  man,"  queried  the  Cap- 
tain, looking  insistently  into  Ermine's  eyes. 

"  Captain,  I  cannot  tell,  any  more  than  to  say 
that  he  is  an  educated  white  man,  who  said  he  is 
dead,  that  his  fires  have  burnt  out,  and  he  asked  me 
not  to  speak  about  him ;  but  you  will  understand." 


io8  JOHN   ERMINE 

Captain  Lewis  did  not  understand,  nor  did  he  avert 
his  perplexed  gaze  from  Ermine.  He  was  wondering 
about  the  boy's  mind ;  had  it  become  deranged  ? 
Clearly  he  saw  that  Ermine  had  been  a  captive ; 
but  this  mystery  of  mind  cultivation  by  one  who  was 
dead  —  had  he  struck  a  new  scheme  in  psychical 
research  ?  The  Captain  rolled  a  cigarette  and 
scratched  a  match  on  the  leg  of  his  breeches. 

"  My  old  companion  told  me  I  ought  to  come  here 
and  help  fight  the  Sioux." 

*'  Have  you  ever  been  to  war  .'* " 

**  Yes ;  I  took  a  scalp  from  a  Sioux  warrior  when 
I  was  a  boy,  and  I  wear  the  eagle  feather  upright," 
spoke  Ermine  in  his  usual  low  and  measured 
voice. 

"  Ho,  ho !  that  is  good.  I  see  that  you  carry  a 
Spencer  carbine.  I  have  not  seen  one  lately ;  we 
do  not  use  them  now." 

**It  is  the  best  I  have,  Captain."  The  Captain 
took  his  cigarette  from  his  mouth  and  bawled : 
"  Jones  !  Oh  Jones,  Jones  !  "  Almost  instantly  a 
soldier  stepped  into  the  tent,  touching  his  forehead 
in  salute.  "  Go  down  and  draw  a  carbine,  fifty 
rounds,  a  saddle,  blanket,  and  bridle."  Jones  dis- 
appeared. "  Oh,  Jones,  Jones,  and  a  shirt  and 
hat."  Then  turning  to  Ermine,  "  Do  you  ever  wear 
shoes.?" 

**  Only  this  kind  I  have  on,  sir." 

"  Do  you  want  some  shoes  ?  " 

"  No ;   I  think  I  am  better  off  with  these.      I  have 


IN   CAMP  109 

tried  on  the  heavy  leather  shoes,  but  they  feel  as 
though  my  feet  were  caught  in  a  trap." 

"Ha,  ha!  a  trap,  hey  —  a  good  deal  so;  well, 
any  time  you  want  anything  come  to  me.  And 
now,  my  boy,  may  I  give  you  a  little  advice } " 

"  You  may,  sir ;  I  shall  be  glad  of  it.  I  know  I 
have  much  to  learn,"  assented  John  Ermine. 

"  Well,  then,  you  are  an  odd-looking  person  even 
in  this  camp,  and  that  is  saying  much,  I  can  assure 
you.  I  will  have  a  hat  here  in  a  moment  which  will 
displace  that  high-art  headgear  of  yours,  and  may  I 
ask  if  you  will  not  take  your  hair  out  of  those 
braids  ?  It  will  be  more  becoming  to  you,  will  not  be 
quite  so  Injuny,  and  I  think  it  will  not  interfere  with 
your  usefulness." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  will,"  quietly  said  the  young  man,  who 
forthwith  undid  the  plats  with  a  celerity  which  comes 
to  the  owners  of  long  hair.  Having  finished,  he  gave 
his  head  a  toss ;  the  golden  tresses,  released  from  their 
bindings,  draped  his  face,  falling  down  in  heavy 
masses  over  his  shoulders,  and  the  Captain  said 
slowly,  *'  Well,  I  will  be  good  God-d d  !  " 

After  having  soothed  his  surprise  by  a  repetition 
of  this  observation  several  times,  the  Captain  added, 
*'  Say,  you  are  a  village  beauty.  Ermine,  by  Gad  — 
Vd  Hke  a  photograph  of  you."  And  that  worthy  con- 
tinued to  feast  his  eyes  on  the  bewildering  sight.  It 
seemed  almost  as  though  he  had  created  it. 

The  orderly  entered  at  this  point,  loaded  down  with 
quartermaster  and   ordnance    stuff.      His    hat   had 


no  JOHN   ERMINE 

found  its  way  on  to  the  back  of  his  head  during 
these  exertions,  and  he  came  up  all  standing,  but  the 
discipline  told.  All  he  did  as  he  gazed  helplessly  at 
Ermine  was  to  whistle  like  a  bull  elk.  Quickly  re- 
covering himself,  **I  have  the  stuff,  sir,  —  but  —  but 
I'm  afraid,  sir,  the  hat  won't  fit." 

"All  right,  all  right,  Jones;  it  will  do."  And  Jones 
took  himself  out  into  the  darkness.  To  a  passing 
comrade  he  *  unloaded ' :  "  Say,  Steve,  you  savvy  that 
blond  Injun  what  was  run  in  here  this  morning  ? 
Well,  he's  in  the  Captain's  tent,  and  the  Captain  has 
got  him  to  take  his  hair  down,  undo  them  braids,  you 
see;  and  say,  Steve,  I  am  a  son-of-a-gun  if  it  ain't 
like  a  bushel  of  hay ;  say,  it's  a  honey-cooler.  You 
will  fall  dead  when  you  see  it." 

Meanwhile  Ermine  was  put  in  possession  of  the 
much-coveted  saddle  and  a  new  gun,  one  with  a  blue 
barrel  without  a  rust-spot  on  it  anywhere,  inside  or 
out.  His  feelings  were  only  held  in  leash  by  a  vio- 
lent repression.  The  officer  enjoyed  the  proceedings 
hugely  as  the  young  man  slipped  into  the  new  shirt 
and  tied  the  yellow  handkerchief  round  his  neck. 
The  campaign  hat  was  a  failure,  as  Jones  had 
feared.  It  floated  idly  on  the  fluffy  golden  tide,  and 
was  clearly  going  to  spoil  the  Captain's  art  work;  it 
was  nothing  short  of  comical.  Frantically  the  officer 
snatched  his  own  hat  from  his  camp-chest,  one  of  the 
broad  rolling  sombreros  common  on  the  plains  in 
those  days,  but  now  seen  no  more ;  this  he  clapped 
on  Ermine's  head,  gave  it  a  downward  tug  together 


IN   CAMP  III 

with  a  pronounced  list  to  the  nigh  side.  Then,  stand- 
ing back  from  his  work,  he  ran  his  eyes  critically  for 
a  moment ;  "  Good  !  now  you'll  do  !  " 

Ermine's  serious  face  found  itself  able  to  relax; 
the  ripples  broadened  over  it,  his  eyes  closed,  and 
his  mouth  opened  ever  so  little,  only  escaping  look- 
ing foolish  by  the  fact  that  he  had  a  reserye ;  he  did 
not  close  or  broaden  too  much. 

"Well,  my  boy,"  said  the  officer,  as  he  began  to 
put  up  his  papers  on  the  chest,  "go  down  to  camp 
now ;  the  outfit  moves  to-morrow ;  you'll  do  in  a  free- 
for-all,  by  Gad." 

D.G, 


When  this  greeted  the  easy  ears  of  our  hero,  he 
found  the  loud  bustle,  so  characteristic  of  the  white 
soldier,  more  noisy  than  ever.  Slowly  the  dancing 
refrain  passed  from  regiment  to  regiment.  The 
thing  itself  is  dear  to  the  tired  soldier  who  dreads  its 
meaning.  It  is  always  a  merry  beginning,  it  accords 
with  the  freshness  of  the  morning ;  when  associated 
with  youth  it  never  fails  to  cheer  the  weary  dragging 
years  of  him  who  looks  behind. 

The  tents  fluttered  down ;  men  ran  about  their 
work,  munching  crackers  and  hot  bacon ;  they  bun- 
dled and  boxed  and  heaved  things  into  the  escort 
wagons.  Teamsters  bawled  loudly  —  it  is  a  concomi-* 
tant  with  mule  association ;  yet  they  were  placid  about 


112  JOHN   ERMINE 

their  work  of  hooking  up  ;  their  yells  never  interfered 
with  their  preoccupied  professionalism.  The  soft 
prairie  winds  sighing  through  the  dreaming  teamster's 
horse-blankets  fills  his  subconscious  self  with  cracks, 
whistles,  howls.     "  You  blaze !  "  —  "  Oh,  Brown !  "  — 

*'D you,  Brigham!"  — ,  ,  ,  and  other 

phrases  which  cannot  be  printed.  That  mules  and 
teamsters  have  never  received  a  proper  public  appre- 
ciation of  their  importance  in  war  is  one  of  the  dis- 
heartening injustices  of  the  world.  Orderlies  and 
mounted  officers  tore  about;  picturesque  men  who 
had  been  saved  from  the  scrap-heap  of  departing 
races  ranged  aimlessly  or  smoked  placidly ;  they  had 
no  packing  to  do,  their  baggage  was  carried  in  their 
belts.  One  of  these  was  John  Ermine,  who  stood  by 
his  pony,  watching  Captain  Lewis ;  this  busy  man 
with  his  multitudinous  duties  had  been  picked  out 
for  a  guiding  star.  Having  presently  completed  all 
the  details,  the  Captain  mounted  and  rode  away,  fol- 
lowed by  his  motley  company.  The  camp  being 
cleared,  the  officer  turned,  and  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand  which  covered  the  horizon  in  its  sweep,  yelled, 
**  Go  on  now ;  get  to  the  hell  out  of  here ! " 

In  quick  response  the  wolfish  throng  broke  apart, 
loping  away  over  the  yellow  landscape  flaming  out 
toward  all  points;  the  trained  skirmishers  trusted 
their  instincts  and  their  horses'  heels.  John  Ermine 
rode  slowly  over  a  hill,  and  looking  backward,  saw 
the  long,  snakelike  columns  of  horse  and  foot  and 
wagons  come  crawling.     It  was  the  most  impressive 


IN   CAMP  113 

sight  he  had  ever  beheld,  but  he  could  not  arrange 
any  plan  in  his  own  mind  whereby  the  command  was 
going  to  fight  the  Sioux.  All  the  Indians  in  his 
world  could  not  and  would  not  try  to  stem  that  ad- 
vance :  as  well  try  to  stop  the  faUing  of  the  snow  or 
the  swarms  of  grasshoppers.  Again,  there  was  no 
necessity,  since  the  command  could  no  more  catch 
the  Sioux  than  it  could  reach  the  sailing  hawks  or 
flapping  ravens. 

Keeping  his  sharp  eyes  circling,  Ermine  mused 
along.  Yes,  he  remembered  what  Crooked-Bear 
had  said :  "  The  white  men  never  go  back ;  they  do 
not  have  to  hunt  buffalo  in  order  to  live;  they  are 
paid  by  the  year,  and  one,  two,  even  a  lifetime  of 
years  make  no  difference  to  them.  They  would 
build  log  towns  and  scare  away  the  buffalo.  The 
Indians  could  not  make  a  cartridge  or  gun,"  and 
other  things  which  he  had  heard  came  into  his  mind. 
It  was  the  awful  stolidity  of  never  ending  time  which 
appalled  Ermine  as  he  calculated  his  strategy  —  no 
single  desperate  endeavor  would  avail;  to  kill  all 
those  men  behind  him  would  do  the  Sioux  no  good 
whatever.  In  single  battles  the  white  men  were 
accustomed  to  leave  more  men  than  that,  dead,  on 
the  field.  Still,  think  as  he  would,  the  matter  was 
not  clear  to  him.  A  mile  away  on  his  right  he  saw 
a  friendly  scout  rise  over  a  bluff;  the  horse  and 
man  made  a  dot  on  the  dry  yellow  grass ;  that  was 
the  difference  between  the  solid  masses  of  dust-blown 
white  men  behind  him  and  the  Indian  people ;  that 


114  JOHN   ERMINE 

sight  gave  him  a  proportion.  If  all  these  white  men 
were  dead,  it  would  make  no  difference;  if  that 
Indian  on  the  far-off  hill  was  dead,  he  could  never 
be  replaced. 

John  Ermine  felt  one  thing  above  all  this  abstrac- 
tion :  it  was  a  deep-seated  respect  for  the  Sioux  per- 
sonally. Except  when  a  fellow-scout  occasionally 
showed  himself  on  a  distant  rise,  or  he  looked  behind 
at  the  dust-pall  over  the  soldiers,  there  was  nothing 
to  be  seen  of  the  Sioux ;  that  was  another  difference, 
and  one  which  was  in  no  wise  reassuring  to  Ermine. 
The  dry,  deserted  landscape  was,  however,  an  old 
comrade,  and  acted  as  a  sedative  after  the  flutter 
of  the  camps.  The  camp  held  dozy,  full-belHed  se- 
curity, but  these  silences  made  his  ears  nervous  for 
a  rattle  of  shots  and  a  pat-a,  pat-a,  pat-a,  of  rushing 
ponies.     That  is  how  the  desert  speaks. 


CHAPTER  X 


A   BRUSH   WITH   THE    SIOUX 


THE  days  saw  the  big  serpents  of  men  crawl 
on  and  on  —  hither  and  yon  over  the  rolling 
land,  saw  them  splash  through  the  rivers, 
wind  round  the  hills,  and  lie  comfortably  down  at 
night.  About  them  fluttered  the  Indian  scouts  like 
flies  around  a  lamp,  —  hostiles  and  allies, — marking 
down  each  other's  sign,  dashing  in  and  out,  exchang- 
ing shots,  but  always  keeping  away  from  the  coils  of 
the  serpents. 

Many  men  besides  Captain  Lewis  held  out  their 
hands  to  Ermine,  attracted  as  they  were,  first  by  his 
picturesque  appearance,  fine  pony,  and  seat,  and 
Lewis's  enthusiasm ;  but  later  by  his  low-voiced  sim- 
plicity and  acute  knowledge  concerning  the  matters 
about  them.  They  in  turn  unravelled  many  tangled 
skeins  for  Ermine ;  regiments  began  to  unwind  into 
companies,  details,  squads ;  the  wagons  assorted 
themselves,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  young 
scout  could  tell  a  colonel  from  a  cook's  police  at  a 

"5 


ii6  JOHN   ERMINE 

glance.  Numbers  of  these  men  had  seen  the  ten 
thousand  men  die,  had  been  with  them  when  they  died, 
had  even,  some  of  them,  lain  down  with  them  sapped 
by  their  own  wounds,  though  of  course  they  had  not 
died.  One  big  man  slapped  Ermine  on  the  back 
hard  enough  to  make  him  cough,  and  said,  **  I'd 
rather  take  my  chance  at  Cold  Harbor  than  go  poking 
round  the  hills  alone  as  you  do,  my  boy."  And  Ermine 
had  to  move  away  quickly  to  avoid  another  exclama- 
tion point,  but  such  little  appreciation  warmed  him. 
Also  the  solidarity  of  these  fellowships  took  the 
more  definite  form  of  a  Colt's  revolver,  a  copy  of 
Upton's  tactics,  a  pocket  Bible,  a  comb  from  a 
bald-headed  man  who  respected  the  unities,  together 
with  trifles  enough  to  litter  up  his  saddle-bags. 

Old  Major  Ben  Searles  in  particular  used  to  centre 
his  benevolent  eyes  on  Ermine.  He  had  a  boy  back 
in  the  States,  and  if  he  had  gone  to  some  other  school 
than  West  Point  might  have  been  a  superintendent 
of  an  orphan  asylum  as  easily  as  the  soldier  which 
he  was.  Ermine's  quaint  questions  gave  him  de- 
licious little  mental  jolts. 

"  Why  is  it.  Uncle  Ben,"  asked  Ermine,  "  that  all 
these  men  come  out  here  to  march,  get  killed,  freeze, 
and  starve  .'*  They  don't  have  any  wives,  and  I  can't 
see  what  they  have  to  protect  except  their  eatables." 

<*  You  see.  Kid,  they  enUst  to  do  what  the  govern- 
ment wants  them  to  do,  and  the  government  wants 
them  to  make  the  Sioux  stop  killing  white  folks  just 
now." 


A   BRUSH  WITH   THE   SIOUX 


"7 


"  Yes,  but  they  won't  do  it.  Why  don't  the  gov- 
ernment mount  them  on  buffalo  ponies,  make  them 
eat  dried  meat,  and  run  after  the  Sioux  instead  of 
taking  the  villages  to  war  ? " 

"Well,    Ermine,   I   don't  know  why.     I   suppose 
that  is  what  the  Indians  would  like  them  to  do,  and  I 
reckon   that  is   the  reason  the  soldiers  don't  do  it 
Soldiers  calculate  not  to 
do  what  the  enemy  wants 
them  to  do.     Don't  you 
get  discouraged ;  wait  a 
year  or  two  or  three,  my 
boy.  Oh,  we'll  get  there; 
we  don't  know  how,  but 
we  always  stand  pat ! " 

"Pat.?  pat.?  What  do 
you  mean  by  *  standing 
pat ' .?  Never  heard  that 
word.  What  does  it 
mean.?"  questioned  the 
young  man. 

Old  Searles  laughed. 
"  *  Pat '  is  a  word  we  use  in  a  game  of  cards,  and  it 
means  that  when  you  think  you  are  licked  you  guess 
you  are  not.     It's  a  great  word.  Ermine." 

The  huge  column  having  crawled  over  the  country 
as  far  as  it  was  ordered,  broke  into  divisions,  some 
going  down  the  river  in  steamboats  and  other  parts 
through  the  hills  to  their  far-off  posts  and  canton- 
ments. 


Major  Ben  Searles, 


ii8  JOHN   ERMINE 

The  Sioux  scouts  regarded  this  as  a  convenient 
solution  of  the  awkward  situation.  Neither  they  nor 
the  white  men  could  do  anything  with  that  unwieldy 
gathering.  Two  infantry  regiments  stayed  behind  as 
a  reminder  to  the  Sioux  that  the  game  was  not  played 
out.  To  one  of  these  Captain  Lewis  was  attached, 
which  good  fortune  gave  Ermine  continued  employ- 
ment. ♦ 

The  soldiers  began  to  build  winter  cantonments  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Buffalo  Tongue  River,  or,  as  the 
white  men  called  it,  "The  Tongue,"  and  to  gather 
great  quantities  of  stores  which  were  hauled  from 
Fort  Benton.  Here  was  something  that  the  Sioux 
could  attack;  they  jumped  the  trains  savagely, 
burned  the  grass,  cut  in  on  the  animals  to  stampede, 
and  peppered  up  the  men  as  they  slept.  Stores  the 
troops  must  have;  and  though  they  met  repulse  at 
times,  they  "pounded"  the  trains  through  to  the 
Tongue. 

It  was  the  custom  for  wagon  trains  to  go  into  camp 
early  in  the  afternoon,  which  gave  the  stock  a  chance 
to  graze  while  it  was  yet  daylight ;  it  also  made  it 
possible  to  guard  them  from  sudden  forays  by  Ind- 
ians. On  one  of  these  occasions  Ermine  was  with 
a  train  which  made  one  of  the  halts  as  usual.  The 
Indians  had  not  interfered,  and  to  kill  time  a  few  offi- 
cers, among  whom  was  Searles,  started  a  game  of 
poker.  Ermine  looked  on  over  their  shoulders,  try- 
ing to  comprehend.  He  had  often  played  the  Indian 
game  of  **  hand,"  so  that  poker  was  merely  a  new 


A  BRUSH  WITH  THE  SIOUX  119 

slide  between  wealth  and  poverty.  Seeing  him,  Cap- 
tain Lewis  sent  him  on  some  trivial  errand.  While  he 
was  gone,  an  agreement  was  made  to  have  him  come 
in,  and  then  they  were  to  **  Skin  him  alive  "  just  to 
see  how  he  would  stand  it.  It  worked  out  beauti- 
fully. First  they  separated  what  little  money  he  had 
from  his  clothes,  the  officers  meanwhile  sitting  like 
owls  and  keeping  their  faces  sober  by  dint  of  lip- 
biting  ;  then  the  sombrero,  which  was  stacked  up  as 
five  dollars,  found  its  way  to  Captain  Lewis's  head  in 
place  of  a  very  bad  campaign  hat.  Next  came  off 
the  buckskin  coat,  which  was  followed  by  the  revol- 
ver, and  slowly,  so  that  his  suspicions  might  not  be 
aroused,  all  his  personal  property,  including  the 
saddle  and  gun,  which  properly  did  not  belong  to 
him,  was  laid  on  the  grass  beside  the  victors. 

"  This  is  going  to  be  a  cold  winter,  John,"  laughed 
one,  "  or  else  we'd  let  you  in  on  that  shirt." 

"Want  to  put  that  pony  up  for  a  hundred,  Er- 
mine?" asked  another. 

"  No ;  I'll  keep  the  pony;  he's  medicine.  I've  often 
lost  all  I  had  with  the  plum  stones.  I  guess  I  don't 
understand  poker."  And  the  young  scout  arose 
smiling.  The  officers  laughed  themselves  into  tears, 
jumped  up,  and  brought  comrades  to  see  how  they 
had  trimmed  John  Ermine.  Every  one  greatly  en- 
joyed what  they  called  Ermine's  preparations  for  the 
winter.  He  had  his  government  shirt,  his  blanket 
breeches,  and  moccasins  left;  he  had  not  been  so 
poor  since  he  was  a  herd-boy,  but  he  had  known 


I20  JOHN   ERMINE 

forms  of  poverty  all  his  life,  so  it  was  not  new. 
What  he  did  not  enjoy  was  his  belittlement.  The 
hard-working  men  in  those  dangerous,  monotonous 
days  were  keen  for  any  weakness ;  and  when  he 
heard  their  laughter  he  wanted  a  horse-bucket  full 
of  human  blood  to  drown  his  thoughts.  He  was 
greatly  disturbed,  not  so  much  on  account  of  his 
losses,  although  they  were  everything,  as  he  viewed 
them,  as  the  ridicule  in  store  for  him  at  Tongue 
River.  There  is  no  greater  stimulant  to  a  hardy 
mind  than  poverty,  and  John  Ermine's  worked  like 
a  government-six  in  a  mud-hole,  far  into  the  night. 

The  trio  of  gamblers,  who  wore  their  spoils  on 
their  own  persons,  to  the  huge  edification  of  the 
camp,  arranged  to  prolong  the  torture  until  they 
should  see  the  young  hatless,  coatless,  unarmed  scout 
on  his  barebacked  pony  during  the  next  march.  At 
the  following  camp  they  were  to  play  again,  lose  to 
him,  and  end  the  joke.  Confidences  were  exchanged, 
and  every  one  was  as  tickled  as  a  cur  with  a  new 
collar. 

One  of  the  officers  of  the  poker  engagement  rode 
a  well-bred  American  horse  of  which  he  was  very 
proud.  He  had  raced  it  successfully  and  never 
declined  an  opportunity,  of  which  fact  Ermine  was 
aware. 

It  had  slowly  come  to  his  mind  that  he  had  been 
foully  dealt  with,  so  about  midnight  he  jumped  up  — 
he  had  a  plan.  By  dint  of  daring,  fortunate  machina- 
tion, and  the  cooperation  of  a  quartermaster  sergeant 


A  BRUSH   WITH   THE   SIOUX  lai 

whom  he  took  into  his  confidence,  he  watered  the 
American  horse,  fed  him  with  a  heavy  feed  of  very- 
salt  corn,  and  later  watered  him  again.  The  horse 
had  been  on  short  rations  and  was  a  glutton.  It  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  the  noble  animal 
managed  his  breakfast  at  all;  but  he  was  always 
willing  at  each  opportunity  to  weaken  the  saline 
solution  in  his  stomach. 

When  the  train  pulled  out,  there  was  Ermine,  bare- 
backed and  ridiculous.  He  rode  through  the  volley 
of  jeers  and  approached  the  horse-racing  officer, 
saying,  "  If  you  are  a  good  gambler,  come  on ; 
I  will  run  my  horse  against  yours,  three  arrow-flights 
and  a  pitch,  horse  against  horse." 

The  laughing  stopped ;  here  was  a  new  idea  — 
the  quarter-bred  blood  horse,  with  his  sleek  bay 
quarters,  against  the  scout's  pony  —  a  good  enough 
animal,  but  thin  and  overworked. 

The  officer  halted  and  stroked  his  chin  with  his 
thumb  and  forefinger. 

"  Hum  —  hum  —  yes  ;  by  Gad,  if  my  horse  can't 
take  that  runt  into  camp,  he  isn't  good  enough  for 
me.     I'll  go  you." 

A  cheer  went  up  from  those  assembled,  and  some 
hidden  force  carried  the  thrill  down  the  train,  which 
halted.     Uncle  Sam's  business  could  wait. 

The  distance  was  paced  off  on  the  level  plain ;  the 
judges  were  set ;  the  scouts  and  officers  lined  up. 

The  American's  horse's  eyes  fairly  bulged  with 
excitement;   he  broke  into  a  dripping   perspiration, 


122  JOHN    ERMINE 

but  seemingly  no  one  noticed  this  but  Ermine.  He 
knew  that  the  load  of  water  would  choke  him  in 
twenty  yards. 

The  old  war-pony  was  thin  from  overwork,  but 
responsive  as  a  dog  to  his  bareback  rider,  and  dan- 
gerous-looking to  one  used  to  see  ponies  which 
show  worse  in  condition  than  out,  by  reason  of  the 
ungraceful  architectural  lines. 

The  pistol  spoke;  the  pony  gained  three  jumps 
from  the  mark.  The  American  made  the  best  of  a 
bad  job,  but  Ermine  was  able  to  turn  at  the  finish 
and  back  him  over  the  judges'  line. 

The  officer  nearly  had  apoplexy,  as  he  pulled  up. 
He  threw  himself  off  the  horse  and  handed  the  reins 
to  Ermine. 

The  action  of  both  challenge  and  race  had  been 
so  rapid  and  so  badly  calculated  on  the  officer's  part 
that  he  lacked  time  to  assimilate  the  idea  that  he  was 
a  fool.  He  tried  to  maintain  a  composure  which  was 
lacking,  as  every  one  could  see. 

"  If  you  will  get  all  my  clothes,  saddle,  and  gun 
back  from  your  comrades,  I  will  give  you  your 
horse,"  said  the  scout. 

The  spectators  who  knew  about  the  poker  game 
now  sat  howling  hopelessly  on  their  horses'  backs. 
Searles  and  the  others  now  came  to  their  beaten 
friend's  aid;  they  shed  their  plunder  in  front  of 
Ermine's  horse,  produced  the  saddle  and  gun  from  a 
near-by  escort  wagon,  laid  them  carefully  down  with 
the  rest,  and  the  victor  granted  peace. 


A  BRUSH  WITH  THE  SIOUX  1^3 

"  Here  is  your  horse,"  said  Ermine,  and  he 
laughed. 

The  occurrence  had  a  serious  side;  the  three 
officers  were  quick  to  appreciate  that.  Searles 
stood  in  front  of  the  scout  and  made  utterance :  "  I 
want  to  say  before 'all  these  men  that  the  poker  game 
was  not  on  the  square  —  that  we  robbed  you  pur- 
posely for  a  joke,  and  that  we  intended  to  give  your 
property  back  to  you  to-night ;  and  I  call  on  all  these 
men  to  witness  my  remarks." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  came  the  chorus ;  "  it  was  all  a  joke. 
Searles  said  he  would  give  it  back.  Don't  hold  it 
out  against  him.  Ermine,"  and  other  reassuring  re- 
marks. They  recognized  the  young  scout's  magna- 
nimity as  a  conqueror. 

The  laughing  ceased ;  the  thing  evidently  had 
been  carried  too  far.  It  would  not  sound  well  when 
told  at  Tongue  River.  The  unfortunate  horse-race 
had  made  proper  restitution  impossible. 

By  this  time  John  Ermine  had  his  clothing  and 
saddle  arranged  and  was  mounted.     He  spoke  :  — 

"Well,  if  that  is  so,  if  it  only  was  a  joke,  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  say  that  I  sat  up  half  of  last 
night  salting  your  horse.  Look  at  him !  He  is  blow- 
ing yet ;  he  is  as  full  of  water  as  a  drowned  buffalo. 
I  am  glad  it  did  not  kill  him ;  let  us  bury  the  axe." 

Major  Searles  and  his  fellows  were  unlike  many 
jokers  ;  they  slowly  readjusted  after  the  shock  and 
laughed  with  the  others. 

The  march  was  resumed,  but  the  customary  mo- 


124  JOHN   ERMINE 

notony  of  this  slow  pacing  of  interminable  landscape 
was  often  abruptly  broken  by  individuals  ha-haing 
loudly,  as  the  sequence  of  events  took  a  new  hold  of 
their  risibles ;  and  Mr.  John  Ermine  tightened  in  an 
ever  increasing  hold  on  their  fancies. 

Major  Searles,  riding  beside  his  horse-racing  con- 
frhcy  tried  to  cheer  him.  "Brace  up,  compadre; 
that  boy  has  you  buffaloed.  We  are  all  right ;  we 
are  nothing  but  a  bunch  of  monkeys.  The  only 
thing  we  forgot  was  that  a  fellow  who  has  lived  all 
his  life  with  Injuns  is  Hkely  to  know  how  to  gamble 
and  race  horses.  He'll  be  wanting  to  juggle  the 
bone^  for  us  yet,  and  we  are  bound  to  go  him." 

"You  bet,"  came  the  reply;  "he  has  got  us  staked 
out,  and  he  can  come  along  and  do  jig  steps  on 
our  chest  any  time  he  feels  like  it.  That  is  where 
we  have  to  moisten  our  lips  and  look  pleasant,  too." 

An  old  wagon  boss  sauntered  by  on  his  mule  with 
its  mouth  d,  la  crocodile. 

"  Ha,  ha !  reckon  you  fellers  has  had  all  the  fun 
that's  a-comin'  to  you.  That  boy  had  that  last  deck 
marked,  bottomed,  sanded,  and  pricked,  with  more 
up  his  sleeve  and  some  in  the  back  of  his  neck." 

John  Ermine  and  Wolf -Voice,  meanwhile,  had  gone 
well  out  in  front  of  the  train,  loping  this  way  and 
that  about  the  course  of  advance,  with  eyes  for 
everything. 

Presently  they  were  seen  to  stop,  turn,  and  come 
back,  flying  as  fast  and  straight  as  the  antelope  runs. 

1  Indian  game  of  "  hand." 


A  BRUSH  WITH  THE   SIOUX  125 

"  How  now,  by  Gad !  here's  smoke  for  us ! "  said 
Searles.     No  one  laughed  any  more. 

Swift  and  noiseless  as  the  birds  came  the  scouts ; 
nearer  and  nearer,  until  their  flying  horses'  hair  could 
be  seen ;  then  sounded  the  hoof-beats  until  they  drew 
rein.  Wolf-Voice's  hair  fairly  stood  up,  and  his  fierce 
little  eyes  danced  attendance ;  he  talked  all  the  lan- 
guages he  knew,  and  worked  his  free  hand  in  most 
alarming  sign  signals  to  help  his  expression. 

"What's  up,  Ermine  ?  "  said  the  Major. 

"Well,  Major,  the  ground  out  there  is  alive  with 
fresh  pony-tracks.    I  think  you  had  better  bunch  up." 

The  train  was  strung  out,  having  passed  a  bad 
"  draw."  Turning,  the  Major  shouted  :  "  Close  up  in 
columns  of  fours !     Deploy  that  escort  out !  " 

The  order  flew  down  the  train ;  the  whips  cracked, 
and  the  straining  mules  trotted  into  position ;  the 
infantry  guard  ran  out  from  the  sides,  shoving  shells 
into  the  breech-blocks.  Even  while  this  was  in 
motion,  a  torrent  of  Sioux  poured  over  the  bluffs, 
back  of  the  flat,  and  came  on. 

The  soldiers  dropped  on  to  their  knees  in  the  sage- 
brush. The  Major  spurred  to  the  particular  point 
for  which  they  were  headed,  followed  by  scouts  and 
several  mounted  men. 

"  Steady,  men !  hold  your  fire !  " 

The  men  were  aiming,  and  each  had  five  cartridges 
in  his  teeth.  In  a  sonorous  roll  came,  "Steady  — 
steady  —  steady  ! "  And  the  gay  stream  of  savagery 
bore  on. 


126  JOHN   ERMINE 

"  Fire ! "  Like  a  double  drag  on  a  drum  which 
gradually  dies,  the  rifles  rattled  down  the  extended 
line,  all  concentrated  on  the  head  of  the  flying 
column.  The  smoke  played  along  the  gray  sage ; 
there  was  a  sharp  clatter  of  breech-blocks,  and  an 
interval. 

*'  Ready !     Fire !  "  and  this  repeated. 

The  Major  jogged  to  a  wind-blown  place  and  saw 
that  the  column  had  veered  to  its  right  but  was  not 
checked.  Followed  by  his  few  mounted  men,  he  rode 
along  behind  their  line  parallel  with  the  head  of  the 
charge,  but  before  the  slow  and  steady  fire  the 
Indian  line  drew  out.  The  train  was  caught  in 
the  circle,  but  the  enemy  had  not  the  heart  to  ride 
over  the  deadly  skirmish  line.  The  close  columns 
of  wagons  now  turned  off  down  toward  the  river, 
and,  keeping  their  distances,  the  infantry  followed  it. 
Indian  ponies  lay  kicking  out  on  the  dry  plain,  and 
here  and  there  could  be  seen  warriors  who  retired 
slowly  from  the  racing  Indians;  they  had  been 
plugged. 

Bullets  kicked  up  the  dust,  and  one  or  two  soldiers 
had  to  be  helped  along  by  their  comrades. 

The  heated  air  shimmered  over  the  land ;  but  for 
the  rattle  and  thud  of  gun  and  pony,  the  clank,  snort, 
and  whip-cracks  among  the  wagons,  the  great,  gray 
plains  lay  silent. 

No  eye  save  that  of  a  self-considering  golden  eagle 
looked  on,  and  he  sailed  placidly  far  above.  Ponies 
and  mules  strained  and  lathered,  men  sweated  and 


A  BRUSH   WITH   THE   SIOUX  129 

grunted  and  banged  to  kill;  nature  lay  naked  and 
insensate. 

The  Indians  made  a  stand  under  the  cut  banks  of 
the  river,  but  were  flanked  out.  The  train  drove 
slowly  into  a  corral  form,  when  the  mules  were 
unhooked.  The  guard  began  to  rifle-pit  among  the 
wagons,  and  the  Indians  drew  off  to  breathe  their 
ponies.  They  had  stopped  the  train,  but  the  "  walk- 
a-heap "  soldiers  were  behind  the  wagons,  which 
were  full  of  "chuck,"  and  water  was  at  hand. 
Indians  always  dreaded  the  foot-soldiers,  who  could 
not  run  away,  and  who  would  not  surrender,  but 
worked  their  long  rifles  to  the  dying  gasp;  they 
were  "  heap  bad  medicine  "  ;  they  were  like  wounded 
gray  bears  in  a  den  of  rocks  —  there  was  no  reason- 
able method  for  their  capture. 

Major  Searles  jumped  from  his  horse,  took  off  his 
hat,  and  mopped  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief. 
*'  So  far,  so  good !  so  far,  so  good  !  but  not  so  very 
d far  either,"  he  mused. 

Towing  his  pony  behind  him.  Wolf- Voice  came  up, 
legs  bowed  and  wobbly,  horseback  fashion  when 
afoot.     Calling  loudly,  he  said  :  — 

"  By  Jeskris,  Maje  Searl,  bout  two-tree  minit  you 
bettar  look  out;  dose  Kul-tus-til-akum  she  mak  de 
grass  burn  yu  up,  by  Gar.  Win'  she  waas  come 
deese  way." 

"Yes  —  yes,  that's  right.  Here  you.  Ermine,  and 
you.  Lieutenant  Smith,  take  what  men  you  want  and 
kill  a  wounded  mule  —  drag  his  hide  over  the  grass 


I30  JOHN   ERMINE 

to  windward ;  it  is  short  and  won't  burn  high.  And, 
Lieutenant,  give  me  all  the  men  you  can  over  here ; 
they  will  try  to  come  through  the  smoke."  Saying 
which,  the  Major  made  his  way  to  the  ammunition 
wagons  and  had  the  mules  hooked  to  them,  intending 
to  run  these  into  the  river  in  case  the  fire  came 
through. 

In  fighting  Indians,  the  Major,  who  was  an  old 
hand,  knew  that  one  must  act  quickly,  for  they  are 
rapid  tacticians  and  their  blows  come  fast. 

These  preparations  had  no  sooner  been  made  than, 
true  to  Wolf-Voice's  admonitions,  the  Indians  came 
down,  and,  just  out  of  rifle-range,  started  the  fire 
down  wind.  Almost  no  air  was  stirring ;  the  flames 
ran  slowly  through  the  short  buffalo-grass,  but  weeds 
and  sage  made  considerable  smoke,  which  came 
toward  the  train. 

The  dripping  carcass  of  the  mule  was  dragged  in 
a  ring  round  the  windward  side  of  the  train ;  the 
smoke  eddied  over  the  wagons;  the  Indians  could 
not  be  seen ;  every  man's  eyes  and  ears  were  strained 
and  fingers  twitched  as  they  lay  at  an  "aim"  or 
"ready,"  among  the  wagon-wheels. 

The  mules  grew  restive  and  sat  back  on  their  fas- 
tenings; but  there,  matters  had  been  well  attended 
to,  for  the  side-lines  and  hobbles  were  leathered  and 
laced. 

To  the  silent  soldiers  this  was  one  of  the  times 
when  a  man  lives  four  years  in  twenty  minutes; 
nothing  can  be  compared  to  it  but  the   prolonged 


A  BRUSH  WITH  THE   SIOUX  131 

agony  between  your  **  Will  you  have  me  ?  "  and  her 
"yes"  or  "NO." 

As  the  fire  came  nearer,  they  heard  its  gentle 
crackle,  crackle ;  their  nerves  all  crackled  in  unison. 
It  reached  the  bloody  ring  left  by  the  poor  mule  — 

"  would  the  d Injuns  never  come  ?"  At  the  guard 

line  the  flames  died  and  crackled  no  more.  The 
smoke  grew  thinner,  and  at  last  they  saw  out  through 
it ;  the  Indians  held  themselves  safely  out  of  rifle-shot. 

"  Hum,"  said  Searles,  as  he  stepped  down  from  a 
wagon-wheel,  "they  didn't  want  any  of  this  chicken 
pie."  And  then  he  did  what  he  was  never  known  to 
do  under  ordinary  circumstances ;  and  when  he  was 
through,  the  men  cheered,  and  every  mule-skinner 
who  had  heard  him  envied  a  man  who  could  talk  it 
off  just  like  that. 

"Ah,  Maje  Searl,"  chimed  in  Wolf -Voice,  "don' 
you  been  scare;  dose  Injuns  no  say  goo'by  yet, 
mabeso." 

And  they  did  not  say  good-by.  They  dismounted 
and  went  behind  the  washes  in  the  shallow  river. 
They  peppered  and  banged  the  men  as  they  watered 
the  stock,  the  perilous  trip  only  being  made  behind 
a  strong  skirmish  line  with  three  men  hit  and  a  half- 
dozen  mules.  The  soldiers  ate  a  quiet  supper  and 
put  out  the  fires  before  the  sun  went  down.  The 
Indians,  with  the  declining  light,  crawled  in  on  the 
train  and  pecked  at  the  monster. 

"  Pe-e-e-eing "  went  a  bullet  on  a  wagon-tire ; 
"  slap  "  went  another  on  a  wagon-box ;  "  thud,"  as 


132  JOHN   ERMINE 

one  buried  in  a  grain-bag ;  *'  phud,"  and  the  ball  made 
a  mule  grunt ;  but  the  echoing  Springfields  spit  their 
45 's  at  the  flashes. 

Searles  sent  for  Ermine  and  Wolf-Voice,  and 
sitting  on  the  grass  behind  a  barricade  of  grain-sacks, 
he  began :  "  We  are  corralled,  and  I  haven't  escort 
enough  to  move.  I  can  hold  out  till  snow,  but 
can't  graze  my  stock.  Some  one  has  to  go  back  for 
reenforcements.  Will  you  go }  It  can  be  made  on  a 
good  horse  by  morning." 

"Well,  Major,  I'll  try  it.  I  can  go  if  I  can  get 
through  with  a  fair  start.  The  moon  will  come  up 
later,  and  I  must  go  now  while  there  is  a  chance," 
said  Ermine. 

"  Will  you  go  also,  Mr.  Wolf -Voice  } " 

"  Well,  hit  be  good  chance  for  geet  keel.  Yaes,  I 
go,  mebeso,  feefty  doaller,"  vouchsafed  that  worthy, 
after  nicely  balancing  the  chances. 

"  What  do  you  want  for  going,  John  Ermine  ? " 
asked  the  Major. 

"I  don't  want  anything.  I  came  to  fight  the 
Sioux.  I  do  not  go  to  war  for  fifty  dollars."  But  it 
was  too  dark  for  the  half-breed  to  see  the  contempt 
in  Ermine's  face,  so  he  only  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  contented  himself  with,  "  Oh,  weel,  mabeso  dose 
soldier-man  go  for  not  so  much.     I  do  not." 

"All  right,  all  right!  I'll  give  you  an  order  for 
fifty  dollars.  Here  are  the  papers."  And  the  Major 
handed  one  to  each.  "  Now,  don't  lose  them,  what- 
ever else  you  do." 


A   BRUSH   WITH   THE   SIOUX  133 

"  Ma  pony,  she  steef,  no  good.  I  was  go  on  de 
foot."  And  Wolf -Voice  proceeded  to  skin  off  his 
motley  garments.  In  these  desperate  situations  he 
believed  in  the  exemplar  of  his  name;  its  methods 
were  less  heroic  but  more  sure. 

Ermine  half  stripped  himself,  and  his  horse 
wholly ;  bound  up  the  tail,  and  in  the  gloom  rubbed 
the  old  dried  horse's  hoof  on  his  heels.  It  had,  at 
least,  never  done  any  harm,  and  at  times  favored 
him.  Sak-a-war-te  and  the  God  of  the  white  men  — 
he  did  not  know  whether  they  were  one  or  two. 
Trusting  his  valuables  to  the  care  of  the  Major,  he 
was  let  out  of  the  corral  after  a  good  rattle  of  firing, 
into  the  darkness,  away  from  the  river. 

Only  a  few  rifles  ripped  the  night  air  in  response 
to  this,  which  he  took  to  indicate  that  the  better  part 
of  the  Indians  were  along  the  river.  He  glided 
away,  leading  his  pony,  and  the  last  the  soldiers  saw 
was  the  flash  of  a  gun  turned  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion from  the  wagon  train.  Neither  Wolf- Voice  or 
Ermine  again  appeared. 

The  slow  fight  continued  during  the  night  and  all 
the  next  day,  but  by  evening  the  Indians  disappeared. 
They  had  observed  the  approach  of  reenforcements, 
which  came  in  during  the  following  morning,  led  by 
Ermine.  Wolf -Voice,  who  had  been  on  foot,  did  not 
make  the  rapid  time  of  his  mounted  partner,  but  had 
gone  through  and  acquired  the  fifty  dollars,  which 
was  the  main  object. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   TRUTH   OF   THE  EYES 

HE  soldiers  who  had  been  in  the 
wagon-train  fight  carried  John  Er- 
mine's fame  into  cantonments,  and 
Major  Searles  never  grew  tired  of  the 
paean :  — 

"  I  do  not  go  to  war  for  fifty  dollars, 
You  can  bet  your  boots  that  isn't  not  me  lay. 
When  I  fight,  it's  only  glory  which  I  collars, 
Also  to  get  me  little  beans  and  hay." 

But  his  more  ardent  admirers  frowned  on  this  dog- 
gerel, and  reminded  the  songsters  that  no  one  of 
them  would  have  made  that  courier's  ride  for  a  thou- 
sand acres  of  Monongahela  rye  in  bottles.  As  for 
Wolf -Voice,  they  appreciated  his  attitude.  "  Business 
is  business,  and  it  takes  money  to  buy  marbles,"  said 
one  to  another. 

But  on  the  completion  of  the  rude  huts  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Tongue,  and  when  the  last  wagon  train 
had  come  through,  there  was  an  ominous  preparation 
for  more  serious  things.  It  was  in  the  air.  Every 
white  soldier  went  loping  about,  doing  everything 
from  greasing  a  wagon  to  making  his  will. 

134 


THE   TRUTH   OF  THE   EYES  135 

"  Ah,  sacre,  John,"  quoth  Wolf- Voice,  "  am  much 
disturb;  dese  Masta-Shella ^  waas  say  dis  big  chief 
—  what  you  call  de  Miles  ?  —  she  medicin  fighter ; 
she  very  bad  mans ;  she  keep  de  soldiers'  toes  sore 
all  de  taime.  She  no  give  de  dam  de  cole-moon,  de 
yellow-grass  moon ;  she  hump  de  Sioux.  Why  for  we 
mak  to  trouble  our  head  ?  We  have  dose  box,  dose 
bag,  dose  barrel  to  heat,  en  de  commissaire  —  wael 
'nough  grub  las*  our  lifetaime ;  but  de  soldier  say  sure 
be  a  fight  soon ;  dat  Miles  she  begin  for  paw  de 
groun'  —  it  be  sure  sign.  Wael,  we  mak'  a  skin  dat 
las  fight,  hey,  John  .?  " 

Ermine  in  his  turn  conceived  a  new  respect  for  the 
white  soldiers.  If  their  heels  were  heavy,  so  were 
their  arms  when  it  came  to  the  final  hug.  While  it 
was  not  apparent  to  him  just  how  they  were  going 
to  whip  the  Sioux  and  Cheyenne,  it  was  very  evident 
that  the  Indians  could  not  whip  the  soldiers ;  and  this 
was  demonstrated  directly  when  Colonel  Miles,  with 
his  hardy  infantry,  charged  over  Sitting  Bull's  camp, 
and  while  outnumbered  three  to  his  one,  scattered 
and  drove  the  proud  tribesmen  and  looted  their 
tepees.  Not  satisfied  with  this,  the  grim  soldier 
crawled  over  the  snow  all  winter  with  his  buffalo- 
coated  men,  defying  the  blizzards,  kicking  the  sleep- 
ing warriors  out  of  their  blankets,  killing  and  chasing 
them  into  the  cold  starvation  of  the  hills.  So  per- 
sistent and  relentless  were  the  soldiers  that  they 
fought  through  the  captured  camps  when  the  cold 

1  White  men. 


136  JOHN   ERMINE 

was  so  great  that  the  men  had  to  stop  in  the  midst 
of  battle  to  Hght  fires,  to  warm  their  fingers,  which 
were  no  longer  able  to  work  the  breech-locks. 
Young  soldiers  cried  in  the  ranks  as  they  perished 
in  the  frigid  atmosphere ;  but  notwithstanding,  they 
never  stopped.  The  enemy  could  find  no  deep  defile 
in  the  lonely  mountains  where  they  were  safe ;  and 
entrench  where  they  would  among  the  rocks,  the 
steady  line  charged  over  them,  pouring  bullets  and 
shell.  Ermine  followed  their  fortunes  and  came  to 
understand  the  dying  of  "the  ten  thousand  men." 
These  people  went  into  battle  with  the  intention  of 
dying  if  not  victorious.  They  never  consulted  their 
heels,  no  matter  what  the  extremity.  By  the  time 
of  the  green  grass  the  warriors  of  the  northern  plains 
had  either  sought  their  agencies  or  fled  to  Canada. 
Through  it  all  Ermine  had  marched  and  shot  and 
frozen  with  the  rest.  He  formed  attachments  for 
his  comrades  —  that  enthusiastic  affection  which  men 
bring  from  the  camp  and  battle-field,  signed  by  suffer- 
ing and  sealed  with  blood. 


CHAPTER  XII 


--     KATHERINE 


THE  snow  had  gone.  The  plains  and  boxlike 
bluff  around  the  cantonments  had  turned  to 
a  rich  velvet  of  green.  The  troops  rested 
after  the  tremendous  campaigns  in  the  snow-laden, 
wind-swept  hills,  with  the  consciousness  of  work  well 
done.  The  Indians  who  had  been  brought  in  during 
the  winter  were  taking  their  first  heart-breaking 
steps  along  the  white  man's  road.  The  army  teams 
broke  the  prairie,  and  they  were  planting  the  seed. 
The  disappearance  of  the  buffalo  and  the  terrible 
white  chief  Bear-Coat,^  who  followed  and  fought 
them  in  the  fiercest  weather,  had  broken  their  spirits. 
The  prophecies  of  the  old  beaver-men,  which  had 
always  lain  heavily  on  the  Indian  mind,  had  come 
true  at  last  —  the  whites  had  come;  they  had  tried 
to  stop  them  and  had  failed. 

1  General  Miles. 
137 


138  JOHN   ERMINE 

The  soldiers'  nerves  tingled  as  they  gathered  round 
the  landing.  They  cheered  and  laughed  and  joked, 
slapped  and  patted  hysterically,  and  forgot  the  bilious 
officialism  entirely. 

Far  down  the  river  could  be  seen  the  black  funnel 
of  smoke  from  the  steamboat  —  their  only  connection 
with  the  world  of  the  white  men.  It  bore  letters  from 
home,  luxuries  for  the  mess-chest,  and  best  of  all, 
news  of  the  wives  and  children  who  had  been  left 
behind  when  they  went  to  war. 

Every  one  was  in  a  tremor  of  expectancy  except 
the  Indians,  who  stood  solemnly  apart  in  their  buffalo- 
robes,  and  John  Ermine.  The  steamboat  did  not 
come  from  their  part  of  the  world,  and  brought  noth- 
ing to  them ;  still  Ermine  reflected  the  joyousness  of 
those  around  him,  and  both  he  and  the  Indians  knew 
a  feast  for  their  eyes  awaited  them. 

In  due  course  the  floating  house  —  for  she  looked 
more  like  one  than  a  boat  —  pushed  her  way  to  the 
landing,  safe  from  her  thousand  miles  of  snags  and 
sandbars.  A  cannon  thudded  and  boomed.  The 
soldiers  cheered,  and  the  people  on  the  boat  waved 
handkerchiefs  when  they  did  not  use  them  to  wipe 
happy  tears  away;  officers  who  saw  their  beloved 
ones  walked  to  and  fro  in  caged  impatience.  When 
the  gang-planks  were  run  out,  they  swarmed  aboard 
like  Malay  pirates.  Such  hugging  and  kissing  as 
followed  would  have  been  scandalous  on  an  ordinary 
occasion ;  lily-white  faces  were  quite  buried  in  sun- 
burnt mustaches   on   mahogany-brown   skins.      The 


KATHERINE  139 

unmarried  men  all  registered  a  vow  to  let  no  possible 
occasion  to  get  married  escape  them,  and  little  boys 
and  girls  were  held  aloft  in  brawny  arms  paternal. 
A  riot  of  good  spirits  reigned. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mary,  did  you  bring  me  my 
summer  underwear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  say  you  forgot  a  box  of  cigars,  Mattie." 

"  If  you  have  any  papers  or  novels,  they  will  save 
me  from  becoming  an  idiot,"  and  a  shower  of  childish 
requests  from  their  big  boys  greeted  the  women. 

In  truth,  it  must  be  stated  that  at  this  period  the 
fashion  insisted  upon  a  disfigurement  of  ladies  which 
must  leave  a  whole  generation  of  noble  dames  for- 
gotten by  artists  of  all  time.  They  loosened  and 
tightened  their  forms  at  most  inappropriate  places; 
yet  underneath  this  fierce  distortion  of  that  bane  of 
woman.  Dame  Fashion,  the  men  were  yet  able  to 
remember  there  dwelt  bodies  as  beautiful  as  any 
Greek  ever  saw  or  any  attenuated  Empire  dandy 
fancied. 

"Three  cheers  for  the  first  white  women  on  the 
northern  buffalo  range !  " 

"  See  that  tent  over  there  ? "  asked  an  officer  of 
his  *  Missis,'  as  he  pointed  toward  camp ;  "  well,  that's 
our  happy  home;  how  does  it  strike  you.?" 

A  bunch  of  **  shave-tails  "  were  marched  ashore 
amid  a  storm  of  good-natured  raillery  from  the  "  vets  " 
and  mighty  glad  to  feel  once  again  the  grit  under 
their  brogans.  Roustabouts  hustled  bags  and  boxes 
into  the  six-mule  wagons.     The  engine  blew  off  its 


140  JOHN   ERMINE 

exhaust  in  a  frail  attempt  to  drown  the  awful  pro- 
fanity of  the  second  mate,  while  humanity  boiled  and 
bubbled  round  the  great  river-box. 

The  Indians  stood  motionless,  but  their  keen  eyes 
missed  no  details  of  the  strange  medley.  Ermine 
leaned  on  a  wagon-tail,  carefully  paring  a  thin  stick 
with  a  jack-knife.  He  was  arrayed  for  a  gala  day  in 
new  soldier  trousers,  a  yellow  buckskin  shirt  beauti- 
fully beaded  by  the  Indian  method,  a  spotted  white 
handkerchief  around  his  neck,  buckskin  leggings  on 
the  lower  leg  above  gay  moccasins,  a  huge  skinning- 
knife  and  revolver  in  his  belt,  and  a  silver  watch 
chain.  His  golden  hair  was  freshly  combed,  and  his 
big  rakish  sombrero  had  an  eagle  feather  fastened  to 
the  crown,  dropping  idly  to  one  side,  where  the  soft 
wind  eddied  it  about. 

The  John  Ermine  of  the  mountain  den  was  a 
June-bug  beside  this  butterfly,  but  no  assortment  of 
color  can  compete  with  a  scarlet  blanket  when  the 
clear  western  sun  strikes  on  it;  so  in  consequence 
Ermine  was  subdued  by  Wolf- Voice,  who  stood  be- 
side him  thus  arrayed. 

As  the  people  gathered  their  bags  and  parcels, 
they  came  ashore  in  small  groups,  the  women  and 
children  giving  the  wild  Indians  the  heed  which 
their  picturesque  appearance  called  for,  much  of 
this  being  in  the  form  of  little  shivers  up  and  down 
the  spine.  A  true  old  wolf-headed  buffalo  Indian 
would  make  a  Japanese  dragon  look  like  a  plate  of 
ice-cream,  and  the  Old  Boy  himself  would  have  to 


KATHERINE  141 

wave  his  tail,  prick  up  his  sharp  ears,  and  display 
the  best  of  his  Satanic  learning  to  stand  the  com- 
parison. 

Major  Searles  passed  on  with  the  rest,  beaming 
like  a  June  morning,  his  arms  full  of  woman's  equip- 
ment —  Mrs.  Searles  on  one  side  and  his  daughter 
on  the  other. 

''Hello,  Ermine." 

"  How  do.  Major  }  "  spoke  the  scout  as  he  cast  his 
whittling  from  him. 

"This  is  John  Ermine,  who  saved  my  life  last 
winter,  my  dear.     This  is  Mrs.  Searles,  John." 

She  bowed,  but  the  scout  shook  hands  with  her. 
Miss  Searles,  upon  presentation,  gave  Ermine  a 
most  chilling  bow,  if  raising  the  chin  and  dropping 
the  upper  eyelids  can  be  so  described  ;  and  the  man 
who  pushed  his  pony  fearlessly  among  the  whirling 
savages  recoiled  before  her  batteries  and  stood 
irresolute. 

Wolf-Voice,  who  had  not  been  indicated  by  the 
Major,  now  approached,  his  weird  features  lighted 
up  with  what  was  intended  as  pleasantry,  but  which 
instead  was  rather  alarming. 

"How!  how  me  heap  glad  to  see  you."  And  to 
Miss  Searles,  "  How  !  how  you  heap  look  good." 
After  which  they  passed  on. 

"  My,  my,  papa,  did  you  ever  see  such  beautiful 
hair  as  that  man  Ermine  has } "  said  Katherine 
Searles.     "  It  was  a  perfect  dream." 

"  Yes,  good  crop  that  —  'nough  to  stuff  a  mattress 


142 


JOHN   ERMINE 


with;  looks  better  to-day  than  when  it's  full  of 
alkali  dust,"  replied  the  Major. 

**  If  the  young  man  lost  his  hat,  it  would  not  be  a 
calamity,"  observed  the  wife. 

"  And,  papa,  who  was  that  dreadful  Indian  in  the 
red  blanket  ? " 


Katherine, 


"  Oh,  an  old  scoundrel  named  Wolf -Voice,  but  use- 
ful in  his  place.  You  must  never  feed  him,  Sarah, 
or  he  will  descend  on  us  like  the  plague  of  locusts. 
If  he  ever  gets  his  teeth  into  one  of  our  biscuits,  I'll 
have  to  call  out  the  squad  to  separate  him  from  our 
mess-chest." 


KATHERINE  143 

A  strange  thought  flashed  through  John  Ermine's 
head — something  more  like  the  stroke  of  an  axe 
than  a  thought,  and  it  had  deprived  him  of  the 
power  of  speech.  Standing  motionless  and  inert, 
he  watched  the  girl  until  she  was  out  of  sight. 
Then  he  walked  away  from  the  turmoil,  up  along  the 
river-bank. 

Having  gained  a  sufficient  distance,  he  undid  the 
front  of  his  shirt  and  took  out  a  buckskin  bag,  which 
hung  depended  from  his  neck.  It  contained  his 
dried  horse's  hoof  and  the  photograph  of  a  girl, 
the  one  he  had  picked  up  in  the  moonlight  on  the 
trail  used  by  the  soldiers  from  Fort  Ellis. 

He  gazed  at  it  for  a  time,  and  said  softly,  "  They 
are  the  same,  that  girl  and  this  shadow."  And  he 
stood  scrutinizing  it,  the  eyes  looking  straight  into 
his  as  they  had  done  so  often  before,  until  he  was 
intimate  with  the  image  by  a  thousand  vain  imagin- 
ings. He  put  it  back  in  his  bag,  buttoned  his.  shirt, 
and  stood  in  a  brown  study,  with  his  hands  behind 
his  back,  idly  stirring  the  dust  with  the  point  of  one 
moccasin. 

"It  must  have  been  —  it  must  have  been  Sak-a- 
war-te  who  guided  me  in  the  moonlight  to  that 
little  shadow  paper  there  in  the  road  —  to  that  little 
spot  in  all  this  big  country;  in  the  night-time  and 
just  where  we  cut  that  long  road ;  it  means  some- 
thing—  it  must  be."  And  he  could  get  no  farther 
with  his  thoughts  as  he  walked  to  his  quarters. 

Along  the  front  of  the  officers'  row  he  saw  the 


144 


JOHN   ERMINE 


tfl«-t 


bustle,  and  handshaking,  laughter,  and  quick  conver- 
sation. Captain  Lewis  came  by  with  a  tall  young 
man  in  citizen's  clothes,  about  whom  there  was  a 
blacked,  brushed,  shaved  appearance  quite  new  on 
the  Tongue. 

"  I  say,  and  who  is  that  stunning  chap  ? "  said  this 
one  to  Lewis,  in  Ermine's  hearing. 

**  One  of  my  men.     Oh,  come  here.  Ermine.     This 
is  Mr.  Sterling  Harding,  an  Englishman  come  out  to 
see    this    country    and    hunt. 
You    may    be    able    to    tell 
him  some  things  he  wants 
to  know." 

The  two  young  men 
shook  hands  and  stood  ir- 
^-f  resolutely  regarding  each 
V  other.  Which  had  the 
stranger  thoughts  concern- 
ing the  other  or  the  more 
curiosity  cannot  be  stated, 
but  they  both  felt  the  desire 
for  better  acquaintance.  Two  strangers  on  meeting 
always  feel  this  —  or  indifference,  and  sometimes  re- 
pulsion.    The  relations  are  established  in  a  glance. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Ermine,  you  have  shot  in  this 
country." 

"  Yes,  sir," — Ermine  had  extended  the  "sir"  beyond 
shoulder-straps  to  include  clean  shirts,  —  "I  have  shot 
most  every  kind  of  thing  we  have  in  this  country  ex- 
cept a  woman." 


The  Englishman. 


KATHERINE  145 

** Oh!  ha!  ha  ha!"  And  Harding  produced  a  cigar- 
case. 

"  A  woman  ?  I  suppose  there  hasn't  been  any  to 
shoot  until  this  boat  came.  Do  you  intend  to  try 
your  hand  on  one  ?     Will  you  have  a  cigar .'' " 

"  No,  sir ;  I  only  meant  to  say  I  had  shot  things. 
I  suppose  you  mean  have  I  hunted." 

"  Yes,  yes  —  exactly ;  hunted  is  what  I  mean." 

"Well  then,  Mr.  Sterling  Harding,  I  have  never 
done  anything  else." 

**  Mr.  Harding,  I  will  leave  you  with  Ermine ;  I 
have  some  details  to  look  after.  You  will  come  to  our 
mess  for  luncheon  at  noon  t "  interjected  Captain 
Lewis. 

"  Yes,  with  pleasure.  Captain."  Whereat  the  chief 
of  scouts  took  himself  off. 

"  I  suppose,  Mr.  Ermine,  that  the  war  is  quite  over, 
and  that  one  may  feel  free  to  go  about  here  without 
being  potted  by  the  aborigines,"  said  Harding. 

"The  what.?  Never  heard  of  them.  I  can  go 
where  I  like  without  being  killed,  but  I  have  to  keep 
my  eyes  skinned." 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  take  me  out  ?  I  should 
expect  to  incur  the  incidental  risks  of  the  enterprise," 
asked  the  Englishman,  who  had  taken  the  incidental 
risks  of  tigers  in  India  and  sought  "  big  heads "  in 
many  countries  irrespective  of  dangers. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  I  guess  Wolf- Voice  and  I  could  take 
you  hunting  easily  enough  if  the  Captain  will  let  us 
go.     We  never  know  here  what  Bear-Coat  is  going 


146  JOHN   ERMINE 

to  do  next ;  it  may  be  *  boots  and  saddles  *  any  min- 
ute," replied  the  scout. 

"Oh,  I  imagine,  since  Madam  has  appeared,  he 
may  remain  quiet  and  I  really  understand  the  Indians 
have  quite  fled  the  country,"  responded  Harding. 

**Mabeso;  you  don't  know  about  Indians,  Mr.  Hard- 
ing. Indians  are  uncertain ;  they  may  come  back 
again  when  their  ponies  fill  up  on  the  green  grass." 

"  Where  would  you  propose  to  go,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

Ermine  thought  for  a  time,  and  asked,  **  Would  you 
mind  staying  out  all  one  moon,  Mr.  Harding .? " 

"  One  moon  ?  You  mean  thirty  days.  Yes,  three 
moons,  if  necessary.  My  time  is  not  precious.  Where 
would  you  go  .** " 

"Back  in  the  mountains — ^back  on  the  Stinking 
Water ;  a  long  way  from  here,  but  a  good  place  for 
the  animals.  It  is  where  I  come  from,  and  I  haven't 
been  home  in  nearly  a  year.  I  should  like  to  see  my 
people,"  continued  Ermine.  ^ 

"  Anywhere  will  do ;  we  will  go  to  the  Stinking 
Water,  which  I  hope  belies  its  name.  You  have 
relatives  living  there,  I  take  it." 

"  Not  relatives ;  I  have  no  relations  anywhere  on 
the  earth,  but  I  have  friends,"  he  replied. 

"  When  shall  we  start  ? " 

Ermine  waved  his  hand  a  few  times  at  the  sky  and 
said  "  So  many,"  but  it  failed  to  record  on  the  Eng- 
lishman's mind.  He  was  using  the  sign  language. 
The  scout  noted  this,  and  added,  "  Ten  suns  from  now 
I  will  go  if  I  can." 


KATHERINE  I47 

"Very  well;  we  will  purchase  ponies  and  other 
necessaries  meanwhile,  and  will  you  aid  me  in  the 
preparations,  Mr.  Ermine  ?  How  many  ponies  shall 
we  require  ? " 

"  Two  apiece  —  one  to  ride  and  the  other  to  pack," 
came  the  answer  to  the  question. 

A  great  light  dawned  upon  Harding's  mind.  To 
live  a  month  with  what  one  Indian  pony  could  carry 
for  bedding,  clothes,  cartridges,  and  food.  His  new 
friend  failed,  in  his  mind,  to  understand  the  require- 
ments of  an  English  gentleman  on  such  quests. 

"  But,  Mr.  Ermine,  how  should  I  transport  my 
heads  back  to  this  point  with  only  one  pack-animal  ? " 

"  Heads }  heads  ?  back  here  ? "  stumbled  the  light- 
horseman.     "  What  heads .? " 

"  Why,  the  heads  of  such  game  as  I  might  be  so 
fortunate  as  to  kill." 

"What  do  you  want  of  their  heads.?  We  never 
take  the  heads.  We  give  them  to  our  little  friends, 
the  coyotes,"  queried  Ermine. 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  I  must  have  the  heads  to  take  back 
to  England  with  me.  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Ermine,  we 
shall  have  to  be  more  liberal  with  our  pack-train. 
However,  we  will  go  into  the  matter  at  greater 
length  later." 

Sterling  Harding  wanted  to  refer  to  the  Captain 
for  further  understanding  of  his  new  guide.  He  felt 
that  Lewis  could  make  the  matter  plain  to  Ermine  by 
more  direct  methods  than  he  knew  how  to  employ. 
As  the  result  of  world-wide  wanderings,  he  knew  that 


148  JOHN   ERMINE 

the  Captain  would  have  to  explain  to  Ermine  that  he 
was  a  crazy  Englishman  who  was  all  right,  but  who 
must  be  humored.  To  Harding  this  idea  was  not 
new;  he  had  played  his  blood-letting  ardor  against 
all  the  forms  of  outlandish  ignorance.  The  savages 
of  many  lands  had  eaten  the  bodies  of  which  the 
erratic  EngUshman  wanted  only  the  heads. 

So  to  Lewis  went  Harding.  "  I  say,  Captain,  your 
Ermine  there  is  an  artless  fellow.  He  is  proposing 
to  Indianize  me,  to  take  me  out  for  a  whole  moon,  as 
he  calls  it,  with  only  one  pack-pony  to  carry  my  be- 
longings. Also  he  fails,  I  think,  to  comprehend  that 
I  want  to  bring  back  the  heads  of  my  game." 

**  Ha !  I  will  make  that  plain  to  him.  You  see, 
Mr.  Harding,  you  are  the  first  EngHshman  he  ever 
encountered;  fact  is  he  is  range  bred,  unbranded 
and  wild.  I  have  ridden  him,  but  I  use  considerable 
discretion  when  I  do  it,  or  he  would  go  up  in  the  air 
on  me,"  explained  Lewis.  "He  is  simple,  but  he  is 
honest,  faithful,  and  one  of  the  very  few  white  men 
who  know  this  Indian  country.  Long  ago  there  were 
a  great  many  hunters  and  trappers  in  these  parts ;  men 
who  worked  for  the  fur  companies,  but  they  have  all 
been  driven  out  of  the  country  of  late  years  by  the 
Indians,  and  you  will  be  lucky  to  get  Ermine.  There 
are  plenty  of  the  half-breeds  left,  but  you  cannot  trust 
them.  They  might  steal  from  you,  they  might 
abandon  you,  or  they  might  kill  you.  Ermine  will 
probably  take  you  into  the  Crow  country,  for  he  is 
solid  with  those  people.     Why,  half  the  time  when  I 


KATHERINE  149 

order  Crow  scouts  to  do  something  they  must  first  go 
and  make  a  talk  with  Ermine.  He  has  some  sort  of 
a  pull  with  them  —  God  knows  what.  You  may  find 
it  convenient  to  agree  with  him  at  times  when  you 
naturally  would  not;  these  fellows  are  independent 
and  follow  their  fancies  pretty  much.  They  don't 
talk,  and  when  they  get  an  idea  that  they  want  to  do 
anything,  they  proceed  immediately  to  do  it.  Ermine 
has  been  with  me  nearly  a  year  now,  but  I  never  know 
what  minute  I  am  to  hear  he  has  pulled  out." 

Seeing  Ermine  some  little  distance  away,  the  Cap- 
tain sent  an  orderly  after  him.  He  came  and  leant 
with  one  hand  on  the  tent-pole  of  the  fly. 

"  Ermine,  I  think  you  had  better  take  one  or  two 
white  packers  and  at  least  eight  or  ten  animals  with 
you  when  you  go  with  Mr.  Harding." 

**  All  right,  sir,  we  can  take  as  many  packers  as  he 
likes,  but  no  wagons." 

Having  relieved  the  scout  of  his  apprehensions 
concerning  wagons,  the  bond  was  sealed  with  a  cigar, 
and  he  departed,  thinking  of  old  Crooked-Bear's  pre- 
diction that  the  white  men  would  take  him  to  their 
hearts.  Underneath  the  happy  stir  of  his  faculties 
on  this  stimulating  day  there  played  a  new  emotion, 
indefinite,  undefinable,  a  drifting,  fluttering  butter- 
fly of  a  thought  which  never  alighted  anywhere.  All 
day  long  it  flitted,  hovered,  and  made  errant  flights 
across  his  golden  fancies  —  a  glittering,  variegated 
little  puff  of  color. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

PLAYING   WITH   FIRE 

ON  the  following  morning  Harding  hunted  up 
John    Ermine,   and    the   two  walked  about 
together,  the  Englishman  trying  to  fire  the 
scout  with  his  own  passion  for  strange  lands  and  new 
heads. 

To  the  wild  plainsman  the  land  was  not  new ;  hunt- 
ing had  its  old  everyday  look,  and  the  stuffed  heads 
of  game  had  no  significance.  His  attention  was  con- 
stantly interrupted  by  the  little  flutter  of  color  made 
more  distinct  by  a  vesper  before  the  photograph. 

"  Let  us  go  and  find  your  friend,  Wolf-Voice," 
said  Harding,  which  they  did,  and  the  newcomer  was 
introduced.  The  Englishman  threw  kindly,  wonder- 
ing eyes  over  the  fiercely  suspicious  face  of  the  half- 
breed,  whose  evil  orbs  spitted  back  at  him. 

**  Ah,  yees  —  you  was  go  hunt.  All-right ;  I  weel 
mak'  you  run  de  buffalo,  shoot  dose  elk,  trap  de  castor, 
an  you  shall  shake  de  han'  wid  de  grizzly  bear.  How 
much  money  I  geet  —  hey  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  will  get  the  customary  wages,  my  friend, 
and  if  you  give  me  an  opportunity  to  shake  hands 
with  a  grizzly,  your  reward  will  be  forthcoming,"  re- 
plied the  sportsman. 

150 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  151 

"  Very  weel ;  keep  yur  heye  skin  on  me,  when  you 
see  me  run  lak  hell  —  weel,  place  where  I  was  run 
way  from,  dare  ees  mousier's  grizzly  bear,  den  you 
was  go  up  shake  han',  hey  ? " 

Harding  laughed  and  offered  the  man  a  cigar, 
which  he  handled  with  four  fingers  much  as  he  might 
a  tomahawk,  having  none  of  the  delicate  art  native 
to  the  man  of  cigars  or  cigarettes.  A  match  was 
proffered,  and  Wolf- Voice  tried  diligently  to  light 
the  wrong  end.  The  Englishman  violently  pulled 
Ermine  away,  while  he  nearly  strangled  with  sup- 
pressed laughter.  It  was  distinctly  clear  that  Wolf- 
Voice  must  go  with  them. 

"Your  friend  Wolf -Voice  seems  to  be  quite  an 
individual  person." 

"Yes,  the  soldiers  are  always  joshing  him,  but  he 
doesn't  mind.  Sometimes  they  go  too  far.  I  have 
seen  him  draw  that  skinning-knife,  and  away  they  go 
like  a  flock  of  birds.  Except  when  he  gets  loaded 
with  soldier  whiskey,  he  is  all  right.  He  is  a  good 
man  away  from  camp,"  said  Ermine. 

"  He  does  not  appear  to  be  a  thoroughbred  Indian," 
observed  Harding. 

"  No,  he's  mixed ;  he's  like  that  soup  the  company 
cooks  make.  He  is  not  the  best  man  in  the  world, 
but  he  is  a  better  man  in  more  places  than  I  ever 
saw,"  said  Ermine,  in  vindication. 

"  Shall  we  go  down  to  the  Indian  camp  and  try  to 
buy  some  ponies.  Ermine } " 

"  No,  I  don't  go  near  the  Sioux ;  I  am  a  kind  of 


152  JOHN   ERMINE 

Crow.  I  have  fought  with  them.  They  forgive  the 
soldiers,  but  their  hearts  are  bad  when  they  look  at 
me.  I'll  get  Ramon  to  go  with  you  when  you  buy 
the  horses.  Ramon  was  a  small  trader  before  the 
war,  used  to  going  about  with  a  half-dozen  pack- 
horses,  but  the  Sioux  ran  him  off  the  range.  He  has 
pack  saddles  and  rawhide  bags,  which  you  can  hire 
if  you  want  to,"  was  explained. 

"  All  right ;  take  me  to  Ramon  if  you  will." 
"  I  smoke,"  said  Ermine  as  he  led  the  way. 
Having  seen  that  worthy  depart  on  his  trading 
mission  with  Harding  in  tow.  Ermine  felt  reHeved. 
Impulse  drew  him  to  the  officers'  row,  where  he 
strolled  about  with  his  hands  in  his  cartridge-belt. 
Many  passing  by  nodded  to  him  or  spoke  pleasantly. 
Some  of  the  newly  arrived  ladies  even  attempted  con- 
versation ;  but  if  the  soldiers  of  a  year  ago  were  diffi- 
cult for  Ermine,  the  ladies  were  impossible.  He  liked 
them  ;  their  gentle  faces,  their  graceful  carriage,  their 
evident  interest  in  him,  and  their  frank  address  called 
out  all  his  appreciation.  They  were  a  revelation  after 
the  squaws,  who  had  never  suggested  any  of  these 
possibilities.  But  they  refused  to  come  mentally 
near  him,  and  he  did  not  know  the  trail  which  led  to 
them.  He  answered  their  questions,  agreed  with 
whatever  they  said,  and  battled  with  his  diffidence 
until  he  made  out  to  borrow  a  small  boy  from  one 
mother,  proposing  to  take  him  down  to  the  scout 
camp  and  quartermaster's  corral  to  view  the  Indians 
and  mules. 


PLAYING  WITH   FIRE  153 

He  had  thought  out  the  proposition  that  the  Indians 
were  just  as  strange  to  the  white  people  as  the  white 
people  were  to  them,  consequently  he  saw  a  social 
opening.  He  would  mix  these  people  up  so  that  they 
could  stare  at  each  other  in  mutual  perplexity  and  bore 
one  another  with  irrelevant  remarks  and  questions. 

"  Did  Mr.  Butcher-Knife  miss  Madam  Butcher- 
Knife  } "  asked  a  somewhat  elderly  lady  on  one  occa- 
sion, whereat  the  Indian  squeezed  out  an  abdominal 
grunt  and  sedately  observed  to  "  Hairy-Arm,"  in  his 
own  language,  that  "the  fat  lady  could  sit  down 
comfortably,"  or  words  that  would  carry  this  thought. 

The  scout  who  was  acting  as  their  leader  upon  this 
occasion  emitted  one  loud  "  A-ha !  "  before  he  could 
check  himself.  The  lady  asked  what  had  been  said. 
Ermine  did  not  violate  a  rule  clearly  laid  down  by 
Crooked-Bear,  to  the  effect  that  lying  was  the  sure 
sign  of  a  man's  worthlessness.  He  answered  that 
they  were  merely  speaking  of  something  which  he 
had  not  seen,  thus  satisfying  his  protig^. 

After  a  round  or  two  of  these  visits  this  novelty 
was  noised  about  the  quarters,  and  Ermine  found  him- 
self suddenly  accosted.  By  his  side  was  the  original 
of  his  cherished  photograph,  accompanied  by  Lieu- 
tenant Butler  of  the  cavalry,  a  tall  young  man  whose 
body  and  movements  had  been  made  to  conform  to 
the  West  Point  standards. 

"  Miss  Searles  has  been  presented,  I  believe.  She 
is  desirous  of  visiting  the  scout  camp.  Would  you 
kindly  take  us  down  ? " 


154  JOHN   ERMINE 

John  Ermine's  soul  drifted  out  through  the  top  of 
his  head  in  unseen  vapors,  but  he  managed  to  say  that 
he  would.  He  fell  in  beside  the  young  woman,  and 
they  walked  on  together.  To  be  so  near  the  reality, 
the  literal  flesh  and  blood  of  what  had  been  a  long 
series  of  efflorescent  dreams,  quite  stirred  him.  He 
gathered  slowly,  after  each  quick  glance  into  the  eyes 
which  were  not  like  those  in  the  photograph ;  there 
they  were  set  and  did  not  resent  his  fancies ;  here 
they  sparkled  and  talked  and  looked  unutterable 
things  at  the  helpless  errant. 

Miss  Searles  had  been  to  a  finishing  school  in  the 
East,  and  either  the  school  was  a  very  good  one  or 
the  little  miss  exceedingly  apt,  but  both  more  prob- 
ably true.  She  had  the  delicate  pearls  and  peach- 
bloom  on  her  cheeks  to  which  the  Western  sun  and 
winds  are  such  persistent  enemies,  and  a  dear  little 
nose  tipped  heavenward,  as  careless  as  a  cat  hunting 
its  grandmother. 

The  rustle  of  her  clothes  mingled  with  little  songs 
which  the  wind  sang  to  the  grass,  a  faint  freshness 
of  body  with  delicate  spring-flower  odors  drifted  to 
Ermine's  active  nostrils.  But  the  eyes,  the  eyes,  why 
did  they  not  brood  with  him  as  in  the  picture  ?  Why 
did  they  arch  and  laugh  and  tantalize  ? 

His  earthly  senses  had  fled ;  gone  somewhere  else 
and  left  a  riot  in  his  blood.  He  tripped  and  stum- 
bled, fell  down,  and  crawled  over  answers  to  her 
questions,  and  he  wished  Lieutenant  Butler  was 
farther  away  than  a  pony  could  run  in  a  week. 


PLAYING  WITH   FIRE  155 

She  stopped  to  raise  her  dress  above  the  dusty 
road,  and  the  scout  overrode  the  alignment. 

"  Mr.  Ermine,  will  you  please  carry  my  parasol  for 
me.?" 

The  object  in  question  was  newer  to  him  than  a 
man-of-war  would  have  been.  The  prophet  had 
explained  about  the  great  ships,  but  he  had  forgotten 
parasols.  He  did  not  exactly  make  out  whether  the 
thing  was  to  keep  the  sun  off,  or  to  hide  her  face 
from  his  when  she  wanted  to.  He  retraced  his  steps, 
wrapped  his  knuckles  around  the  handle  with  a 
drowning  clutch,  and  it  burned  his  hand.  If  pre- 
viously it  had  taken  all  his  force  to  manoeuvre  himself, 
he  felt  now  that  he  would  bog  down  under  this  new 
weight.  Atlas  holding  the  world  had  a  flying  start 
of  Ermine. 

He  raised  it  above  her  head,  and  she  looked  up  at 
him  so  pleasantly,  that  he  felt  she  realized  his  pre- 
dicament ;  so  he  said,  "  Miss  Searles,  if  I  lug  this  baby 
tent  into  that  scout  camp,  they  will  either  shoot  at  us, 
or  crawl  the  ponies  and  scatter  out  for  miles.  I 
think  they  would  stand  if  you  or  the  Lieutenant  pack 
it ;  but  if  I  do  this,  there  won't  be  anything  to  see  but 
ponies'  tails  wavering  over  the  prairie." 

"  Oh,  thank  you ;  I  will  come  to  your  rescue,  Mr. 
Ermine."     And  she  did. 

"  It  is  rather  ridiculous,  a  parasol,  but  I  do  not 
intend  to  let  the  sun  have  its  way  with  me."  And 
glancing  up,  "Think  if  you  had  always  carried  a 
parasol,  what  a  complexion  you  would  have." 


156  JOHN   ERMINE 

'*  But  men  don't  carry  them,  do  they  ? " 

*'  Only  when  it  rains ;  they  do  then,  back  in  the 
States,"  she  explained. 

Ermine  replied,  "  They  do  —  hum  !  "  and  forthwith 
refused  to  consider  men  who  did  it. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Ermine,  if  I  were  an  Indian,  I  should 
very  much  like  to  scalp  you.  I  cannot  cease  to 
admire  your  hair." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  have  to  be  an  Indian,  to  do  that. 
Here  is  my  knife ;  you  can  go  ahead  any  time  you 
wish,"  came  the  cheerful  response. 

"  Mr.  Butler,  our  friend  succumbs  easily  to  any 
fate  at  my  hands,  it  seems.  I  wonder  if  he  would  let 
me  eat  him,"  said  the  girl. 

"  I  will  build  the  fire  and  put  the  kettle  on  for  you." 
And  Ermine  was  not  joking  in  the  least,  though  no 
one  knew  this. 

They  were  getting  into  the  dangerous  open  fields, 
and  Miss  Searles  urged  the  scout  in  a  different  direc- 
tion. 

**  Have  you  ever  been  East .'' " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  have  been  to  Fort  Buford." 

The  parasol  came  between  them,  and  presently, 
*'  Would  you  Hke  to  go  east  of  Buford  —  I  mean  away 
east  of  Buford,"  she  explained. 

"  No ;  I  don't  want  to  go  east  or  west,  north  or 
south  of  here,"  came  the  astonishing  answer  all  in 
good  faith,  and  Miss  Searles  mentally  took  to  her 
heels.     She  feared  seriousness. 

**  Oh,  here  are  the  Indians,"  she  gasped,  as  they 


Will  you  please  carry  my  parasol  for  me  ? ' 


PLAYING   WITH   FIRE  159 

strode  into  the  grotesque  grouping.  "  I  am  afraid, 
Mr.  Ermine  —  I  know  it  is  silly." 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of,  Miss  Searles  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know ;  they  look  at  me  so  I  "  And  she 
gave  a  most  delicious  little  shiver. 

**  You  can't  blame  them  for  that ;  they're  not  made 
of  wood."  But  this  lost  its  force  amid  her  peripatetic 
reflections. 

"That's  Broken-Shoe;  that's  White-Robe;  that's 
Batailleur  —  oh,  well,  you  don't  care  what  their 
names  are ;   you  probably  will  not  see  them  again." 

"  They  are  more  imposing  when  mounted  and  dash- 
ing over  the  plains,  I  assure  you.  At  a  distance,  one 
misses  the  details  which  rather  obtrude  here,"  ven- 
tured Butler. 

"Very  well;  I  prefer  them  where  I  am  quite  sure 
they  will  not  dash.  I  very  much  prefer  them  sitting 
down  quietly  —  such  fearful-looking  faces.  Oh  my, 
they  should  be  kept  in  cages  like  the  animals  in  the 
Zoo.  And  do  you  have  to  fight  such  people,  Mr. 
Butler?" 

"  We  do,"  replied  the  officer,  Hghting  a  cigarette. 
This  point  of  view  was  new  and  amusing. 

One  of  the  Indians  approached  the  party.  Ermine 
spoke  to  him  in  a  loud,  guttural,  carrying  voice,  so 
different  from  his  quiet  use  of  English,  that  Miss 
Searles  fairly  jumped.  The  change  of  voice  was  like 
an  explosion. 

"  Go  back  to  your  robe,  brother ;  the  white  squaw 
is  afraid  of  you  —  go  back,  I  say  !  " 


i6o  JOHN   ERMINE 

The  intruder  hesitated,  stopped,  and  fastened 
Ermine  with  the  vacant  stare  which  in  such  times 
precede  sudden,  uncontrollable  fury  among  Indians. 

Again  Ermine  spoke :  "  Go  back,  you  brown  son 
of  mules;  this  squaw  is  my  friend;  I  tell  you  she 
is  afraid  of  you.  I  am  not.  Go  back,  and  before  the 
sun  is  so  high  I  will  come  to  you.  Make  this  boy  go 
back,  Broken-Shoe ;  he  is  a  fool." 

The  old  chieftain  emitted  a  few  hollow  grunts,  with 
a  click  between,  and  the  young  Indian  turned  away. 

"  My  !  Mr.  Ermine,  what  are  you  saying }  Have  I 
offended  the  Indian  ?  He  looks  daggers ;  let  us  re- 
tire —  oh  my,  let  us  go  —  quick  —  quick !  "  And 
Ermine,  by  the  flutter  of  wings,  knew  that  his  bird 
had  flown.  He  followed,  and  in  the  safety  of  dis- 
tance she  lightly  put  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  What  was  it  all  about,  Mr.  Ermine .?    Do  tell  me." 

Ermine's  brain  was  not  working  on  schedule  time, 
but  he  fully  realized  what  the  affront  to  the  Indian 
meant  in  the  near  future.  He  knew  he  would  have 
to  make  his  words  good;  but  when  the  creature  of  his 
dreams  was  involved,  he  would  have  measured  arms 
with  a  grizzly  bear. 

"  He  would  not  go  back,"  said  the  scout,  simply. 

"  But  for  what  was  he  coming } "  she  asked. 

"  For  you,"  was  the  reply. 

**  Goodness  gracious !  I  had  done  nothing ;  did 
he  want  to  kill  me .? " 

"  No,  he  wanted  to  shake  hands  with  you ;  he  is 
a  fool." 


PLAYING  WITH   FIRE  i6i 

"  Oh,  only  to  shake  hands  with  me  ?  And  why  did 
you  not  let  him  ?     I  could  have  borne  that." 

"  Because  he  is  a  fool,"  the  scout  ventured,  and 
then  in  tones  which  carried  the  meaning,  "  Shake 
hands  with  you  !  " 

"I  see;  I  understand;  you  were  protecting  me; 
but  he  must  hate  you.  I  believe  he  will  harm  you ; 
those  dreadful  Indians  are  so  relentless,  I  have 
heard.  Why  did  we  ever  go  near  the  creatures  ? 
What  will  he  do,  Mr.  Ermine  ?  " 

The  scout  cast  his  eye  carefully  up  at  the  sky 
and  satisfied  the  curiosity  of  both  by  drawling, 
"A— hul" 

"Well — well,  Mr.  Ermine,  do  not  ever  go  near 
them  again ;  I  certainly  would  not  if  I  were  you.  I 
shall  see  papa  and  have  you  removed  from  those 
ghastly  beings.  It  is  too  dreadful.  I  have  seen  all 
I  care  to  of  them ;  let  us  go  home,  Mr.  Butler." 

The  two  —  the  young  lady  and  the  young  man  — 
bowed  to  Ermine,  who  touched  the  brim  of  his  som- 
brero, after  the  fashion  of  the  soldiers.  They  de- 
parted up  the  road,  leaving  Ermine  to  go,  he  knew 
not  where,  because  he  wanted  to  go  only  up  the  road. 
The  abruptness  of  white  civilities  hashed  the  scout's 
contempt  for  time  into  fine  bits ;  but  he  was  left  with 
something  definite,  at  least,  and  that  was  a  deep, 
venomous  hatred  for  Lieutenant  Butler;  that  was 
something  he  could  hang  his  hat  on.  Then  he 
thought  of  the  "fool,"  and  his  footsteps  boded  ill  for 
that  one. 


i62  JOHN   ERMINE 

"  That  Ermine  is  such  a  tremendous  man ;  do  you 
not  think  so,  Mr.  Butler  ?  " 

"He  seems  a  rather  forceful  person  in  his  simple 
way,"  coincided  the  officer.  "  You  apparently  ap- 
peal to  him  strongly.  He  is  downright  romantic 
in  his  address,  but  I  cannot  find  fault  with  the  poor 
man.     I  am  equally  unfortunate." 

"  Oh,  don't,  Mr.  Butler ;  I  cannot  stand  it ;  you  are, 
at  least,  sophisticated." 

"  Yes,  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  am." 

"  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Butler,"  with  a  deprecating  wave 
of  her  parasol,  "but  tell  me,  aren't  you  afraid  of 
them .? " 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  the  Indians.  Well,  they  cer- 
tainly earned  my  respect  during  the  last  campaign. 
They  are  the  finest  light-horse  in  the  world,  and  if 
they  were  not  encumbered  with  the  women,  herds, 
and  villages ;  if  they  had  plenty  of  ammunition  and 
the  buffalo  would  stay,  I  think  there  would  be  a  great 
many  army  widows.  Miss  Searles." 

"  It  is  dreadful ;  I  can  scarcely  remember  my  father ; 
he  has  been  made  to  live  in  this  beast  of  a  country 
since  I  was  a  child."  Such  was  the  lofty  view  the 
young  woman  took  of  her  mundane  progress. 

"  Shades  of  the  vine-clad  hills  and  citron  groves  of 
the  Hudson  River !  I  fear  we  brass  buttoners  are  cut 
off.  I  should  have  been  a  lawyer  or  a  priest  —  no, 
not  a  priest ;  for  when  I  look  at  a  pretty  girl  I  cannot 
feel  any  priesthood  in  my  veins." 

Miss  Searles  whistled  the  bars  of  "  Halt "  from 
under  the  fortification  of  the  parasol. 


PLAYING  WITH   FIRE  163 

"  Oh,  well,  what  did  the  Lord  make  pretty  women 
for?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  unless  to  demonstrate  the  foolish- 
ness of  the  line  of  Uncle  Sam's  cavalry,"  speculated 
the  arch  one.  "  Mr.  Butler,  if  you  do  not  stop,  I  shall 
run." 

"  All  right ;  I  am  under  arrest,  so  do  not  run ;  we  are 
nearly  home.  I  reserve  my  right  to  resume  hostilities, 
however.  I  insist  on  fair  play  with  your  sage-brush 
admirer.  Since  we  met  in  St.  Louis,  I  have  often 
wondered  if  we  should  ever  see  each  other  again.  I 
always  ardently  wished  we  could." 

**  Mr.  Butler,  you  are  a  poor  imitation  of  our  friend 
Ermine ;  he,  at  least,  makes  one  feel  that  he  means 
what  he  says,"  she  rejoined. 

"  And  you  were  good  enough  to  remind  me  that  I 
was  sophisticated." 

**  I  may  have  been  mistaken,"  she  observed.  She 
played  the  batteries  of  her  eyes  on  the  unfortunate 
soldier,  and  all  of  his  formations  went  down  before 
them.  He  was  in  love,  and  she  knew  it,  and  he  knew 
she  knew  it. 

He  felt  like  a  fool,  but  tried  not  to  act  one,  with  the 
usual  success  of  lovers.  He  was  an  easy  victim  of 
one  of  those  greatest  of  natural  weaknesses  men  have. 
She  had  him  staked  out  and  could  bring  him  into  her 
camp  at  any  time  the  spirit  moved  her.  Being  a 
young  person  just  from  school,  she  found  affairs 
easier  than  she  had  been  led  to  suspect.  In  the 
usual  girl  way  she  had  studied  her  casts,  lures,  and 


1 64  JOHN   ERMINE 

baits,  but  in  reality  they  all  seemed  unnecessary,  and 
she  began  to  think  some  lethal  weapon  which  would 
keep  her  admirers  at  a  proper  distance  more  to  the 
purpose. 

The  handsome  trooper  was  in  no  great  danger,  she 
felt,  only  she  must  have  time ;  she  did  not  want  every- 
thing to  happen  in  a  minute,  and  the  greatest  dream 
of  Hfe  vanish  forever.  Besides,  she  intended  never, 
under  any  circumstances,  to  haul  down  her  flag  and 
surrender  until  after  a  good,  hard  siege. 

They  entered  the  cabin  of  the  Searles,  and  there 
told  the  story  of  the  morning's  adventures.  Mrs. 
Searles  had  the  Indians  classified  with  rattlesnakes, 
green  devils,  and  hyenas,  and  expected  scenes  of  this 
character  to  happen. 

The  Major  wanted  more  details  concerning  Ermine. 
"Just  what  did  he  say,  Butler.?  " 

"I  do  not  know;  he  spoke  in  some  Indian  lan- 
guage." 

"Was  he  angry,  and  was  the  Indian  who  ap- 
proached you  mad .? " 

"They  were  Uke  two  dogs  who  stand  ready  to 
fight,  —  teeth  bared,  muscles  rigid,  eyes  set  and  just 
waiting  for  their  nerves  to  snap,"  explained  Butler. 

"  Oh,  some  d Indian  row,  no  one  knows  what, 

and  Ermine  won't  tell ;  yet  as  a  rule  these  people  are 
peaceful  among  themselves.  I  will  ask  him  about 
it,"  observed  the  Major. 

"  Why  can't  you  have  Mr.  Ermine  removed  from 
that  awful   scout  camp,  papa.?    Why   can't    he  be 


PLAYING  WITH   FIRE  165 

brought  up  to  some  place  near  here?  I  do  not  see 
why  such  a  beautiful  white  person  as  he  is  should 
have  to  associate  with  those  savages,"  pleaded  the 
graceful  Katherine. 

"  Don't  worry  about  Ermine,  daughter ;  you 
wouldn't  have  him  rank  the  Colonel  out  of  quarters, 
would  you  ?     I  will  look  into  this  matter  a  little." 

Meanwhile  the  young  scout  walked  rapidly  toward 
his  camp.  He  wanted  to  do  something  with  his 
hands,  something  which  would  let  the  gathering 
electricity  out  at  his  finger-ends  and  reheve  the 
strain,  for  the  trend  of  events  had  irritated  him. 

Going  straight  to  his  tent,  he  picked  up  his  rifle, 
loaded  it,  and  buckled  on  the  belt  containing  ammu- 
nition for  it.  He  twisted  his  six-shooter  round  in 
front  of  him,  and  worked  his  knife  up  and  down  in 
its  sheath.  Then  he  strode  out,  going  slowly  down 
to  the  scout  fire. 

The  day  was  warm ;  the  white-hot  sun  cut  tra- 
ceries of  the  Cottonwood  trees  on  the  ground.  A 
little  curl  of  blue  smoke  rose  straight  upward  from 
the  fire,  and  in  a  wide  ring  of  little  groups  sat  or 
lounged  the  scouts.  They  seemingly  paid  no  attention 
to  the  approach  of  Ermine,  but  one  could  not  deter- 
mine this ;  the  fierce  Western  sun  closes  the  eyelids 
in  a  perpetual  squint,  and  leaves  the  beady  eyes  a 
chance  to  rove  unobserved  at  a  short  distance. 

Ermine  came  over  and  walked  into  the  circle,  stop- 
ping in  front  of  the  fire,  thus  facing  the  young  Ind- 
ian to  whom  he  had  used  the  harsh  words.      There 


i66  JOHN   ERMINE 

was  no  sound  except  the  rumble  of  a  far-off  govern- 
ment mule  team  and  the  lazy  buzz  of  flies.  He  de- 
liberately rolled  a  cigarette.  Having  done  this  to 
his  satisfaction,  he  stooped  down  holding  it  against 
the  coals,  and  it  was  ages  before  it  caught  fire. 
Then  he  put  it  to  his  lips,  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  in 
the  direction  of  his  foe,  and  spoke  in  Absaroke. 

"  Well,  I  am  here." 

The  silence  continued ;  the  Indian  looked  at  him 
with  a  dull  steady  stare,  but  did  nothing;  finally 
Ermine  withdrew.  He  understood;  the  Indian  did 
not  consider  the  time  or  opportunity  propitious,  but 
the  scout  did  not  flatter  himself  that  such  a  time  or 
place  would  never  come.  That  was  the  one  charac- 
teristic of  an  Indian  of  which  a  man  could  be  certain. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN   LOVE 

JOHN  ERMINE  lay  on  his  back  in  his  tent, 
with  one  leg  crossed  over  the  other.  His  eyes 
were  idly  attracted  by  the  play  of  shadows  on 
the  ducking,  but  his  mind  was  visiting  other  places. 
He  was  profoundly  discontented.  During  his  life 
he  had  been  at  all  times  an  easy-going  person  — 
taught  in  a  rude  school  to  endure  embarrassing  ca- 
lamities and  long-continued  personal  inconveniences 
by  flood  and  hunger,  bullets  and  snow.  He  had  no 
conception  of  the  civilized  trait  of  acquisitiveness 
whereby  he  had  escaped  that  tantaUzation.  He  de- 
sired military  distinction,  but  he  had  gotten  that.  No 
man  strode  the  camp  whose  deeds  were  better  recog- 
nized than  his,  not  even  the  Colonel  commanding. 

His  attitude  toward  mankind  had  always  been 
patient  and  kindly  except  when  urged  into  other 
channels  by  war.  He  even  had  schooled  himself  to 
the  irksome  labor  at  the  prophet's  mine,  low  delving 
which  seemed  useless ;  and  had  acquiesced  while 
Crooked-Bear  stuffed  his  head  with  the  thousand 
details  of  white  mentality ;  but  now  vaguely  he 
began  to  feel  a  lack  of  something,  an  effort  which 

167 


i68  JOHN   ERMINE 

he  had  not  made  —  a  something  he  had  left  undone ; 
a  difference  and  a  distinction  between  himself  and 
the  officers  who  were  so  free  to  associate  with  the 
creature  who  had  borrowed  his  mind  and  given  noth- 
ing in  return.  No  one  in  the  rude  campaigning 
which  had  been  the  lot  of  all  since  he  joined  had 
made  any  noticeable  social  distinction  toward  him 
—  rather  otherwise;  they  had  sought  and  trusted 
him,  and  more  than  that,  he  had  been  singled  out  for 
special  good  will.  He  was  free  to  call  at  any  officer's 
quarters  on  the  line,  sure  of  a  favorable  reception; 
then  why  did  he  not  go  to  Major  Searles's?  At 
the  thought  he  lay  heavier  on  the  blanket,  and  dared 
not  trust  his  legs  to  carry  out  his  inclinations. 

The  camp  was  full  of  fine  young  officers  who 
would  trust  their  legs  and  risk  their  hearts  —  he  felt 
sure  of  that.  True,  he  was  subject  to  the  orders  of 
certain  officials,  but  so  were  they.  Young  officers  had 
asked  him  to  do  favors  on  many  occasions,  and  he 
did  them,  because  it  was  clear  that  they  ought  to  be 
done,  and  he  also  had  explained  devious  plains-craft 
to  them  of  which  they  had  instantly  availed  them- 
selves. The  arrangement  was  natural  and  not  op- 
pressive. 

Captain  Lewis  could  command  him  to  ford  a  rush- 
ing torrent :  could  tell  him  to  stand  on  his  head  and 

be  d quick  about  it,  and  of  course  he  would  do 

anything  for  him  and  Major  Searles ;  they  could  ask 
nothing  which  the  thinker  would  not  do  in  a  lope. 
As  for  Colonel  Miles,  the  fine-looking  man  who  led 


IN   LOVE  169 

"  ten  thousand  "  in  the  great  white  battles,  it  was  a 
distinction  to  do  exactly  what  he  ordered  —  every  one 
did  that ;  then  why  did  he  not  go  to  Major  Searles's 
quarters,  he  kept  asking  himself.  He  was  not  afraid 
of  Colonel  Miles  or  Captain  Lewis  or  Major  Searles 
or  any  officer,  but —  and  the  thought  flashed,  he  was 
wary  of  the  living  eyes  of  the  beloved  photograph. 
Before  these  he  could  not  use  his  mind,  hands,  or 
feet ;  his  nerves  shivered  like  aspen  leaves  in  a  wind, 
and  the  blood  surged  into  his  head  until  he  could  see 
nothing  with  his  eyes;  cold  chills  played  up  and 
down  his  spine;  his  hair  crawled  round  under  his 
sombrero,  and  he  was  most  thoroughly  miserable,  but 
some  way  he  no  longer  felt  contentment  except  while 
undergoing  this  misery. 

He  lay  on  the  blanket  while  his  thoughts  alter- 
nately fevered  and  chilled  his  brain.  So  intense  were 
his  emotions  that  they  did  more  than  disorder  his 
mind :  they  took  smart  hold  of  his  very  body,  gnaw- 
ing and  constricting  his  vitals  until  he  groaned  aloud. 

No  wild  beast  which  roamed  the  hills  was  less 
conscious,  ordinarily,  of  its  bodily  functions  than 
Ermine.  The  machinery  of  a  perfect  physique  had 
always  responded  to  the  vital  principle  and  unwound 
to  the  steady  pull  of  the  spring  of  life,  yet  he  found 
himself  now  stricken.  It  was  not  a  thing  for  the 
surgeon,  and  he  gradually  gave  way  before  its  steady 
progress.  His  nature  was  a  rich  soil  for  the  seeds  of 
idealism  which  warm  imagination  constantly  sprinkled, 
and  the  fruits  became  a  consuming  passion. 


I70  JOHN   ERMINE 

His  thoughts  were  burning  him.  Getting  up  from 
his  bed,  he  took  a  kettle  and  small  axe,  saddled  his 
pony,  and  took  himself  off  toward  the  river.  As  he 
rode  along  he  heard  the  Englishman  call  out  to  him, 
but  he  did  not  answer.  The  pony  trotted  away,  leav- 
ing the  camp  far  behind,  until  he  suddenly  came 
to  a  little  prairie  surrounded  by  cottonwoods,  in  the 
middle  of  which  were  numbers  of  small  wick-e-ups 
made  by  the  Indians  for  sweat-baths.  He  placed  his 
blankets  and  ponchos  over  one,  made  a  fire  and 
heated  a  number  of  rocks,  divested  himself  of  his 
clothing,  and  taking  his  pail  of  water  got  inside, 
crouching  while  he  dashed  handfuls  of  water  over 
the  hot  rocks.  This  simple  remedy  would  do  more 
than  cleanse  the  skin  and  was  always  resorted  to  for 
common  ills  by  the  Indians.  After  Ermine  came  out 
he  plunged  into  the  cold  waters  of  the  Yellowstone 
and  dressed  himself,  but  he  did  not  feel  any  better. 
He  mounted  and  rode  off,  forgetting  his  axe,  blankets, 
and  pail;  such  furnishings  were  unconsidered  now. 
In  response  to  a  tremendous  desire  to  do  something, 
he  ran  his  pony  for  a  mile,  but  that  did  not  calm  the 
yearning. 

"  I  feel  like  a  piece  of  fly-blown  meat,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  I  think  I  will  go  to  Saw-Bones  and  let 
him  have  a  hack  at  me ;  I  never  was  so  sick  before." 
And  to  the  cabin  of  the  surgeon  he  betook  himself. 

That  gentleman  was  fussing  about  with  affairs  of 
his  own,  when  Ermine  entered. 

**  Say,  doctor,  give  me  some  medicine.** 


IN   LOVE  171 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ? "  asked  the  ad- 
dressed, shoving  his  sombrero  to  one  side  and  looking 
up  incredulously. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sick." 

**  Well,  where  are  you  sick  ? " 

Ermine  brushed  his  hair  from  off  his  forehead, 
slapped  his  leggings  with  his  quirt,  and  answered, 
"  Sick  all  over  —  kind  of  low  fever,  like  a  man  with  a 
bullet  in  him." 

"  Bilious,  probably."  And  the  doctor  felt  his  pulse 
and  looked  into  his  bright,  clear  eyes. 

"Oh,  nonsense,  boy  —  you  are  not  sick.  I  guess 
loafing  around  is  bad  for  you.  The  Colonel  ought 
to  give  you  a  hundred  miles  with  his  compHments  to 
some  one ;  but  here  is  a  pill  which  will  cure  you." 
Saying  which,  the  physician  brought  out  his  box  con- 
taining wheat  bread  rolled  into  small  balls,  that  he 
always  administered  to  cases  which  he  did  not  under- 
stand or  to  patients  whom  he  suspected  of  shirking 
on  "  sick  report." 

Ermine  swallowed  it  and  departed. 

Thd  doctor  tipped  his  sombrero  forward  and 
laughed  aloud  in  long,  cadenced  peals  as  he  sorted 
his  vials. 

**  Sick !  "  he  muttered  ;  "  funny  —  funny  —  funny 
sick !  One  could  not  kill  him  with  an  axe.  I  guess 
he  is  sick  of  sitting  round  —  sick  to  be  loping  over 
the  wild  plains.       Humph  —  sick  !  " 

Ermine  rode  down  the  officers'  row,  but  no  one  was 
to  be  seen.     He  pulled  his  horse's  head   up  before 


172  JOHN   ERMINE 

Major  Searles's  door,  but  instantly  slapped  him  with 
his  whip  and  trotted  on  to  his  tent. 

"If  that  fool  Indian  boy  would  only  show  him- 
self," he  thought ;  but  the  Indian  was  not  a  fool,  and 
did  not.  Again  Ermine  found  himself  lying  on  his 
back,  more  discontented  than  ever.  The  day  waned 
and  the  shadows  on  the  tent  walls  died,  but  still 
he  lay.     Ramon  stuck  his  head  in  at  the  flaps. 

"Well  —  ah  got  your  British  man  hees  pony, 
Ermine — trade  twenty-five  dollar  in  goods  for  five 
pony." 

"  Oh,  d the  Englishman,"  was  the  response  to 

^is,  whereat  Ramon  took  a  good  long  stare  at  his 
friend  and  withdrew.  He  failed  to  understand  the 
abruptness,  and  went  away  wondering  how  Ermine 
could  know  that  he  had  gouged  Mr.  Harding  a  little 
on  the  trade.  Still  this  did  not  explain ;  for  he  had 
confidence  in  his  own  method  of  blinding  his  trail. 
He  was  a  business  man  and  a  moral  cripple. 

The  sun  left  the  world  and  Ermine  with  his 
gloomy  thoughts. 

***♦♦* 

Late  at  night  Captain  Lewis  sat  at  his  desk  writing 
letters,  the  lamp  spotting  on  the  white  disk  of  his 
hat,  which  shaded  his  face,  while  the  pale  moonlight 
crept  in  through  the  open  door.  A  sword  clanked 
outside,  and  with  a  knock  the  officer  of  the  guard 
hurriedly  entered. 

"  Say,  Bill,  I  have  your  scout  Ermine  down  by  the 
guard-house,  and  he's  drunk.     I  didn't  lock  him  up. 


IN  LOVE  173 

Wanted  to  see  you  first.  If  I  lock  him  up,  I  am  afraid 
he'll  pull  out  on  you  when  he  comes  to.  What  shall 
I  do  > " 

"  The  devil  you  say  —  Ermine  drunk  }  Why,  I 
never  knew  him  to  drink ;  it  was  a  matter  of  prin- 
ciple with  him ;  often  told  me  that  his  mentor,  who- 
ever he  was,  told  him  not  to." 

"Well,  he's  drunk  now,  so  there  you  are,"  said 
the  officer. 

"  How  drunk .? " 

"  Oh,  good  and  drunk." 

"  Can  he  walk  ?  "  Lewis  queried. 

"  No ;  all  he  can  do  is  lay  on  his  back  and  shoot 
pretty  thick  Injun  at  the  moon." 

"  Does  every  one  know  of  this } " 

"  No ;  Corporal  Riley  and  Private  Bass  of  Com- 
pany K  brought  him  up  from  Wilmore's  whiskey- 
shack,  and  they  are  sitting  on  his  chest  out  back  of 
the  guard-house.  Come  on,"  spoke  the  responsible 
one. 

Lewis  jumped  up  and  followed.  They  quickly 
made  their  way  to  the  spot,  and  there  Lewis  beheld 
Ermine  lying  on  his  back.  The  moonlight  cut  his 
fine  face  softly  and  made  the  aureole  of  his  light 
hair  stand  away  from  the  ground.  He  moaned 
feebly,  but  his  eyes  were  closed.  Corporal  Riley  and 
Private  Bass  squatted  at  his  head  and  feet  with  their 
eyes  fastened  on  the  insensible  figure.  Off  to  one 
side  a  small  pile  of  Ermine's  lethal  weapons  shim- 
mered.    The  post  was  asleep ;  a  dog  barked,  and  an 


174  JOHN   ERMINE 

occasional  cow-bell  tinkled  faintly  down  in  the  quarter- 
master's corral. 

"  Gad ! "  gasped  Lewis,  as  he  too  stooped  down. 
"How  did  this  happen,  Corporal?" 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well  tell  it  as  it 
is,"  Bass  replied,  indirectly  conscious  of  the  loyalty 
he  owed  his  brother  sinner.  "We  ran  the  guard, 
sir,  and  went  down  to  Wilmore's,  and  when  we  got 
there,  we  found  this  feller  pretty  far  gone  with 
drink.  He  had  his  guns  out,  and  was  talking  Injun, 
and  he  had  Wilmore  hiding  out  in  the  sage-brush. 
I  beefed  him  under  the  ear,  and  we  took  his  guns 
away,  sir.  I  didn't  hurt  him  much;  he  was  easy 
money  with  his  load,  and  then  we  packed  him  up 
here,  and  I  told  the  officer  of  the  guard,  sir." 

"  Well,"  said  Lewis,  finally,  "  make  a  chair  of  your 
hands  and  bring  him  down  to  my  quarters." 

The  soldiers  gathered  up  the  limp  form,  while 
Lewis  took  the  belt  and  pistols. 

"  No  use  of  reporting  this  ? " 

"  No,"  answered  the  officer  of  the  guard. 

The  men  laid  him  out  on  the  Captain's  bed  after 
partially  disrobing  him,  and  started  to  withdraw. 

"  Go  to  your  quarters,  men,  and  keep  your 
mouths  shut;  you  will  understand  it  is  best  for 
you." 

The  two  saluted  and  passed  out,  leaving  the  Cap- 
tain pacing  the  floor,  and  groping  wildly  for  an 
explanation. 

"  Why,  I  have  offered  that  boy  a  drink  out  of  my 


IN   LOVE  175 

own  flask  on  campaign,  when  we  were  cold  enough 
and  tired  enough  to  make  my  old  Aunt  Jane  weaken 
on  her  blue  ribbon ;  but  he  never  did.  That  was 
good  of  the  men  to  bring  him  in,  and  smart  of 
Welbote  not  to  chuck  him  in  the  guard-house. 
Sailor's  sins !  he'd  never  stand  that ;  it  would  kill 
his  pride,  and  he  has  pride,  this  long-haired  wild 
boy.  He  may  tell  me  in  the  morning,  but  I  am 
not  so  sure  of  that.  Laying  down  on  his  luck  is 
not  the  way  he  plays  it.     I  don't   doubt  it  was  an 

accident,  and  maybe  it  will  teach  him  a  d good 

lesson ;  he'll  have  a  head  like  a  hornets'  nest 
to-morrow  morning." 

The  Captain,  after  a  struggle  with  the  strange 
incident,  sought  his  couch,  and  when  he  arose  next 
morning  betook  himself  to  Ermine's  room.  He 
found  him  asleep  amid  the  tangle  of  his  wonderful 
hair,  and  he  smiled  as  he  pictured  the  scout's  sur- 
prise when  he  awoke;  in  fact,  he  pulled  himself 
together  for  a  little  amusement.  A  few  remarks  to 
reenforce  the  headache  would  do  more  good  than  a 
long  brief  without  a  big  'exhibit  A,'  such  as  would 
accompany  the  awakening. 

The  steady  gaze  of  the  Captain  awoke  the  scout, 
and  he  opened  his  eyes,  which  wandered  about  the 
room,  but  displayed  no  interest ;  they  set  themselves 
on  the  Captain's  form,  but  refused  to  believe  these 
dreams,  and  closed  again.  The  Captain  grinned 
and  addressed  the  empty  room :  — 

"  How  would  you  like  to  be   a  millionnaire  and 


176  JOHN   ERMINE 

have  that  headache  ?  Oh,  gee  —  'twould  bust  a  mule's 
skull." 

The  eyes  opened  again  and  took  more  account  of 
things;  they  began  to  credit  their  surroundings. 
When  the  scene  had  assembled  itself,  Ermine  sat 
up  on  the  bed,  saying,  "  Where  am  I  ?  what  hit 
me.^"  and  then  he  lay  down  again.  His  dream 
had  come  true;  he  was  sick. 

"  You  are  in  my  bed,  so  stay  there,  and  you  will 
come  out  all  right.  You  have  been  making  the 
Big  Red  Medicine;  the  devil  is  pulling  your  hair, 
and  every  time  he  yanks,  he  will  say,  *  John  Ermine, 
don't  do  that  again.'  Keep  quiet,  and  you  will  get 
well."     After  saying  which  Lewis  left  the  room. 

All  day  long  the  young  man  lay  on  the  bed ;  he 
was  burning  at  the  stake ;  he  was  being  torn  apart 
by  wild  horses;  the  regimental  band  played  its 
bangiest  music  in  his  head;  the  big  brass  drum 
would  nearly  blow  it  apart;  and  his  poor  stomach 
kept  trying  to  crawl  out  of  his  body  in  its  desperate 
strife  to  escape  Wilmore's  decoction  of  high-wine. 
This  lasted  all  day,  but  by  evening  the  volcano  had 
blown  itself  out,  when  a  natural  sleep  overcame  him. 

Captain  Lewis  had  the  knowledge  of  certain  magic, 
well  enough  known  in  the  army,  to  alleviate  Er- 
mine's condition  somewhat,  but  he  chose  not  to  use 
it ;  he  wanted  *  exhibit  A '  to  wind  up  in  a  storm  of 
fireworks. 

As  Ermine  started  out  the  next  morning  Lewis 
called,  "  Hey,  boy,  how  did  you  come  to  do  it }  " 


IN   LOVE  177 

Ermine  turned  a  half-defiant  and  half-questioning 
front  to  Lewis  and  tossed  his  matted  hair.  "  I  don't 
know,  Captain ;  it  all  seems  as  though  I  must  have 
fallen  off  the  earth ;  but  I'm  back  now  and  think  I 
can  stay  here." 

"Well,  no  one  knows  about  it  except  myself,  so 
don't  say  a  word  to  any  one,  and  don't  do  it  again  — 
sabe  ? " 

"  You  bet  I  won't.  If  the  soldiers  call  that  drown- 
ing their  sorrows,  I  would  rather  get  along  with 


CHAPTER  XV 

BRINGING   IN   THE   WOLF 

"y^  OING  to  follow  the  dogs  to-day,  Lewis?'* 
I  f  said  Lieutenant  Shockley,  poking  his  head 
in  the  half-open  door. 

"Yes,  reckon  I'll  give  this  chair  a  vacation; 
wait  a  minute,"  and  he  mauled  the  contents  of  his 
ditty-box  after  the  manner  of  men  and  bears  when 
in  search  of  trifles.  A  vigorous  stirring  is  bound  to 
upheave  what  is  searched  for,  so  in  due  course  the 
Captain  dug  up  a  snaffle-bit. 

**  I  find  my  horse  goes  against  this  better  than  the 
government  thing  —  when  the  idea  is  to  get  there 
and  d formations." 

"  Well,  shake  yourself,  Lewis ;  the  people  are 
pulling  out." 

"  What,  ahead  of  the  scouts  ? "  laughed  the  chief 
of  them. 

"  Yes ;  and  you  know  the  line  never  retires  on  the 
scouts ;  so  smoke  up." 

The  orderly  having  changed  the  bits,  the  two 
mounted  and  walked  away.  "  'Spose  this  is  for  the 
Englishman.  Great  people  these  Englishmen  —  go 
trotting  all  over  the  earth  to  chase  something ;  any- 

178 


BRINGING   IN  THE  WOLF  179 

thing  will  do  from  rabbits  to  tigers,  and  niggers  pre- 
ferred," said  Lewis. 

"  Must  be  a  great  deprivation  to  most  Englishmen 
to  have  to  live  in  England  where  there  is  nothing  to 
chase.  I  suppose  they  all  have  this  desire  to  kill 
something;  a  great  hardship  it  must  be,"  suggested 
Shockley. 

"Oh,  I  think  they  manage,"  continued  Lewis; 
"from  what  I  understand  the  rich  and  the  great  go 
batting  about  the  globe  after  heads ;  the  so-so  fellows 
go  into  the  army  and  navy  to  take  their  chance  of  a 
killing,  and  the  lower  orders  have  to  find  content- 
ment in  staying  at  home,  where  there  is  no  amuse- 
ment but  pounding  each  other." 

"  There  goes  your  friend  Ermine  on  that  war-pony 
of  his ;  well,  he  can  show  his  tail  to  any  horse  in  can- 
tonments. By  the  way,  some  one  was  telling  me  that 
he  carries  a  medicine-bag  with  him;  isn't  he  a 
Christian  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  He  reminds  me  of  old  Major 
Doyle  of  ours,  who  was  promoted  out  of  us  during 
the  war,  but  who  rejoined  in  Kansas  and  was  retired. 
You  don't  remember  him  ?  He  was  an  Irishman 
and  a  Catholic ;  he  had  been  in  the  old  army  since 
the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to  the  contrary,  and 
ploughed  his  way  up  and  down  all  over  the  continent. 
And  there  was  Major  Dunham  —  you  know  him.  He 
and  Doyle  had  been  comrades  since  youth;  they 
had  fought  and  marched  together,  spilled  many  a 
noggin  in   each   other's   honor,  and  who   drew  the 


i8o  JOHN   ERMINE 

other's  monthly  pay  depended  on  the  paste-boards. 
Old  Doyle  came  into  post,  one  day,  and  had  a  lot  of 
drinks  with  the  fellows  as  he  picked  up  the  social 
threads.  Finally  he  asked :  *  Un'  phware  is  me  ole 
friend,  Dunham  ?  Why  doesn't  he  come  down  and 
greet  me  with  a  glass } ' 

"  Some  one  explained  that  old  Dunham  had  since 
married,  had  joined  the  church,  and  didn't  greet  any 
one  over  glasses  any  more. 

"  *  Un'  phwat  church  did  he  join  .? ' 

"  Some  one  answered,  the  Universalist  Church. 

"  *  Ah,  I  see,'  said  Doyle,  tossing  off  his  drink, 
'  he's  huntin'  an  aisy  ford.'  So  I  guess  that's  what 
Ermine  is  doing." 

They  soon  joined  the  group  of  mounted  officers 
and  ladies,  orderlies,  and  nondescripts  of  the  camp, 
all  alive  with  anticipations,  and  their  horses  stepping 
high. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Harding;  how  do  you  find 
yourself .? "  called  out  Captain  Lewis. 

"  Fine  —  fine,  thank  you.'* 

"  How  are  you  mounted  ? " 

Harding  patted  his  horse's  neck,  saying :  "  Quite 
well  —  a  good  beast;  seems  to  manage  my  weight, 
but  I  find  this  saddle  odd.  Bless  me,  I  know  there 
is  no  habit  in  the  world  so  strong  as  the  saddle.  I 
have  the  flat  saddle  habit." 

"What  we  call  a  rim-fire  saddle,"  laughed  Searles, 
who  joined  the  conversation. 

"  Ah  —  a  rim-fire,  do   you   call   them }    Well,  do 


BRINGING  IN  THE  WOLF  i8i 

you  know,  Major,  I  should  say  this  saddle  was  better 
adapted  to  carrying  a  sack  of  corn  than  a  man," 
rejoined  Harding. 

"  Oh,  you'll  get  along ;  there  isn't  a  fence  nearer 
than  St.  Paul  except  the  quartermaster's  corral." 

**  I  say,  Searles,"  spoke  Lewis,  "  there's  the  Colonel 
out  in  front  —  happy  as  a  boy  out  of  school;  glad 
there's  something  to  keep  him  quiet;  we  must  do 
this  for  him  every  day,  or  he'll  have  us  out  pounding 
sage-brush." 

"  And  there's  the  quartermaster  with  a  new  popper 
on  his  whip,"  sang  some  voice. 

"  There  is  no  champagne  like  the  air  of  the  high 
plains  before  the  sun  burns  the  bubble  out  of  it," 
proclaimed  Shockley,  who  was  young  and  without 
any  of  the  saddle  or  collar  marks  of  life ;  "  and  to  see 
these  beautiful  women  riding  along  —  say,  Harding, 
if  I  get  off  this  horse  I'll  set  this  prairie  on  fire,"  and 
he  burst  into  an  old  song  :  — 

"  Now,  ladies,  good-by  to  each  kind,  gentle  soul, 
Though  me  coat  it  is  ragged,  me  heart  it  is  whole; 
There's  one  sitting  yonder  I  think  wants  a  beau. 
Let  her  come  to  the  arms  of  young  Billy  Barlow." 

And  Shockley  urged  his  horse  to  the  side  of  Miss- 
Katherine  Searles. 

Observing  the  manoeuvre,  Captain  Lewis  poked 
her  father  in  the  ribs.  "  I  don't  think  your  daughter 
wants  a  beau  very  much.  Major;  the  youngsters  are 
four  files  deep  around  her  now." 

**'Tis  youth.  Bill  Lewis;   we've  all  had  it  once, 


l82 


JOHN   ERMINE 


and  from  what  I  observe,  they  handle  it  pretty  much 
as  we  used  to." 

"The  very  same.  I  don't  see  how  men  write 
novels  or  plays  about  that  old  story ;  all  they  can  do 
is  to  invent  new  fortifications  for  Mr.  Hero  to  carry 
before  she  names  the  day." 

Lieutenant  Shockley  found  himself  unable  to  get 
nearer   than    two    horses    to    Miss    Searles,    so    he 

bawled :  **  And  I  thought  you 
fellows  were  hunting  wolves. 
I  say,  Miss  Searles,  if  you 
ride  one  way  and  the  wolf 
runs  the  other,  it  is  easy  to 
see  which  will  have  the  larger 
field.  My  money  is  on  you  — 
two  to  one.  Who  will  take 
the  wolf } " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Shockley,  be- 
tween you  and  this  Western 
sun,  I  shall  soon  need  a  new 
powder  puff." 

"  Shall  I  challenge  him  ? " 
called  Bowles  to  the  young  woman. 

"  Please  not,  Mr.  Bowles  ;  I  do  not  want  to  lose 
him."    And  every  one  greeted  Shockley  derisively. 

"  Guide  right ! "  shouted  the  last,  putting  his  horse 
into  a  lope.  Miss  Searles  playfully  slashed  about 
with  her  riding-whip,  saying,  "  Deploy,  gentlemen," 
and  followed  him.  The  others  broke  apart;  they 
had  been  beaten  by  the  strategy  of  the  loud  mouth. 


Shockley. 


BRINGING   IN   THE  WOLF  183 

Lieutenant  Butler,  however,  permitted  himself  the 
pleasure  of  accompanying  Miss  Sear les ;  his  deter- 
mination could  not  be  shaken  by  these  diversions; 
he  pressed  resolutely  on. 

"  I  think  Butler  has  been  hit  over  the  heart,"  said 
one  of  the  dispersed  cavaliers. 

"  You  bet,  and  it  is  a  disabling  wound  too.  I 
wonder  if  Miss  Searles  intends  to  cure  him.  When  I 
see  her  handle  her  eyes,  methinks,  compadre,  she's  a 
cruel  little  puss.     I  wouldn't  care  to  be  her  mouse." 

"  But,  fellows,  she's   pretty,  a  d pretty  girl, 

hey  !  "  ventured  a  serious  youngster.  "  You  can  bet 
any  chap  here  would  hang  out  the  white  flag  and 
come  a-running,  if  she  hailed  him." 

And  so,  one  with  another,  they  kept  the  sacred  fire 
alight.  As  for  that  matter,  the  aforesaid  Miss  Puss 
knew  how  her  men  valued  the  difficulties  of  approach, 
which  was  why  she  scattered  them.  She  proposed  to 
take  them  in  detail.  Men  do  not  weaken  readily 
before  each  other,  but  alone  they  are  helpless  crea- 
tures, when  the  woman  understands  herself.  She  can 
then  sew  them  up,  tag  them,  and  put  them  away 
on  various  shelves,  and  rely  on  them  to  stay  there ; 
but  it  requires  management,  of  course. 

"  I  say.  Miss  Searles,  those  fellows  will  set  spring 
guns  and  bear  traps  for  me  to-night ;  they  will 
never  forgive  me." 

"  Oh,  well,  Mr.  Shockley,  to  be  serious,  I  don't 
care.  Do  you  suppose  a  wolf  will  be  found }  I  am 
so  bored."    Which  remark  caused  the  eminent  Lieu- 


1 84  JOHN   ERMINE 

tenant  to  open  his  mouth  very  wide  in  imitation  of  a 
laugh,  divested  of  all  mirth. 

"  Miss  Katherine  Searles,"  he  said,  in  mock 
majesty,  "  I  shall  do  myself  the  honor  to  crawl  into 
the  first  badger-hole  we  come  to  and  stay  there 
until  you  dig  me  out." 

**  Don't  be  absurd ;  you  know  I  always  bury  my 
dead.  Mr.  Butler,  do  you  expect  we  shall  find  a 
wolf  ?  Ah,  there  is  that  King  Charles  cavalier,  Mr. 
Ermine  —  for  all  the  world  as  though  he  had  stepped 
from  an  old  frame.     I  do  think  he  is  lovely." 

"  Oh,  bother  that  yellow  Indian ;  he  is  such  a 
nuisance,"  jerked  Butler. 

"Why  do  you  say  that.?  I  find  him  perfectly  new; 
he  never  bores  me,  and  he  stood  between  me  and  that 
enraged  savage." 

"  A  regular  play.  I  do  not  doubt  he  arranged  it 
beforehand.  However,  it  was  well  thought  out  — 
downright  dramatic,  except  that  the  Indian  ought  to 
have  killed  him." 

"  Oh,  would  you  have  arranged  it  that  way  if  you 
had  been  playwright .? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  bilious  lover. 

Shaking  her  bridle  rein,  she  cried,  "Come,  Mr. 
Shockley,  let  us  ride  to  Ermine ;  at  least  you  will 
admire  him."  Shockley  enjoyed  the  death  stroke 
which  she  had  administered  to  Butler,  but  saying  to 

himself  as  he  thought  of  Ermine,  "  D the  curly 

boy,"  and  followed  his  charming  and  difficult  quarry. 
He  alone  had  ridden  true. 


BRINGING  IN  THE  WOLF  185 

The  independent  and  close-lipped  scout  was  riding 
outside  the  group.  He  never  grew  accustomed  to 
the  heavy  columns,  and  did  not  talk  on  the  march  — 
a  common  habit  of  desert  wanderers.  But  his  eye 
covered  everything.  Not  a  buckle  or  a  horse-hair 
or  the  turn  of  a  leg  escaped  him,  and  you  may  be 
sure  Miss  Katherine  Searles  was  detailed  in  his 
picture. 

He  had  beheld  her  surrounded  by  the  young  offi- 
cers until  he  began  to  hate  the  whole  United  States 
army.  Then  he  saw  her  dismiss  the  escort  saving 
only  two,  and  presently  she  reduced  her  force  to  one. 
As  she  came  toward  him,  his  blood  took  a  pop  into 
his  head,  which  helped  mightily  to  illumine  his  natu- 
ral richness  of  color.  She  was  really  coming  to  him. 
He  wished  it,  he  wanted  it,  as  badly  as  a  man  dying 
of  thirst  wants  water,  and  yet  a  whole  volley  of 
bullets  would  not  disturb  him  as  her  coming  did. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Ermine;  you,  too,  are  out 
after  wolves,  I  see,"  sang  Katherine,  cheerily. 

"No,  ma'm,  I  don't  care  anything  about  wolves; 
and  why  should  I  care  for  them .? " 

"  What  are  you  out  for  then,  pray  ? " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know;  thought  I  would  like  to  see 
you  after  wolves.  I  guess  that's  why  I  am  out,"  came 
the  simple  answer. 

"Well,  to  judge  by  the  past  few  miles  I  don't 
think  you  will  see  me  after  them  to-day." 

"I  think  so  myself.  Miss  Searles.  These  people 
ought  to  go  back  in  the  breaks  of  the  land  to  find 


i86  JOHN   ERMINE 

wolves;  they  don't  give  a  wolf  credit  for  having 
eyes." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  them  so,  Mr.  Ermine?" 
pleaded  the  young  woman. 

"  The  officers  think  they  know  where  to  find  them ; 
they  would  not  thank  me,  and  there  might  not  be 
anywhere  I  would  go  to  find  them.  It  does  not 
matter  whether  we  get  one  or  none,  anyhow,"  came 
Ermine's  sageness. 

"  Indeed,  it  does  matter.     I  must  have  a  wolf." 

"  Want  him  alive  or  dead } "  was  the  low  question. 

'*  What !  am  I  to  have  one  ?  " 

"You  are,"  replied  the  scout,  simply. 

"When.?" 

"Well,  Miss  Searles,  I  can't  order  one  from  the 
quartermaster  exactly,  but  if  you  are  in  a  great  hurry, 
I  might  go  now." 

"  Mr.  Ermine,  you  will  surely  kill  me  with  your 
generosity.  You  have  offered  me  your  scalp,  your 
body,  and  now  a  wolf.  Oh,  by  the  way,  what  did 
that  awful  Indian  say  to  you.?  I  suppose  you  have 
seen  him  since." 

"  Didn't  say  anything." 

"  Well  I  hope  he  has  forgiven  you ;  but  as  I  under- 
stand them,  that  is  not  the  usual  way  among  Indians." 

"  No,  Miss  Searles,  he  won't  forgive  me.  I'm 
a-keeping  him  to  remember  you  by." 

*'•  How  foolish ;  I  might  give  you  something  for  a 
keepsake  which  would  leave  better  memories,  do  you 
not  think  so  .? " 


BRINGING  IN  THE  WOLF  187 

"You  might,  if  you  wish  to." 

The  girl  was  visibly  agitated  at  this,  coming  as  it 
did  from  her  crude  admirer.  She  fumbled  about 
her  dress,  her  hair,  and  finally  drew  off  her  glove 
and  gave  it  to  the  scout,  with  a  smile  so  sweet  and 
a  glance  of  the  eye  which  penetrated  Ermine  like  a 
charge  of  buckshot.  He  took  the  glove  and  put  it 
inside  of  the  breast  of  his  shirt,  and  said,  **  I'll  get  the 
wolf." 

Shockley  was  so  impressed  with  the  conversation 
that  he  was  surprised  into  silence,  and  to  accomplish 
that  phenomenon  took  a  most  powerful  jolt,  as  every 
one  in  the  regiment  knew.  He  could  talk  the  bottom 
out  of  a  nose-bag,  or  put  a  clock  to  sleep.  Ordinary 
verbal  jollity  did  not  seem  at  all  adequate,  so  he 
carolled  a  passing  line :  — 

"  One  little,  two  little,  three  little  Injuns, 
Four  little,  five  little,  six  little  Injuns, 
Seven  little,  eight  little,  nine  little  Injuns, 
Ten  little  Injun  boys." 

This  came  as  an  expiring  burst  which  unsettled  his 
horse  though  it  relieved  him.  Shockley  needed  this 
much  yeast  before  he  could  rise  again. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Shockley,  you  must  know  Mr.  Ermine." 

"  I  have  the  pleasure,  Miss  Searles ;  haven't  I, 
Ermine  ? " 

The  scout  nodded  assent. 

"  We  were  side  by  side  when  we  rushed  the  point 
of  that  hill  in  the  Sitting  Bull  fight  last  fall ;  remember 
that,  Ermine?" 


i88  JOHN   ERMINE 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  scout;  but  the  remembrance 
evidently  did  not  cause  Ermine's  E  string  to  vibrate. 
Fighting  was  easier,  freer  ;  but  altogether  it  was  like 
washing  the  dishes  at  home  compared  with  the  dan- 
gers which  now  beset  him. 

Suddenly  every  one  was  whipping  and  spurring 
forward ;  the  pack  of  greyhounds  were  streaking  it 
for  the  hills.  "  Come  on,"  yelled  Shockley,  "  here's 
a  run."  And  that  mercurial  young  man's  scales  tipped 
right  readily  from  his  heart  to  his  spurs. 

**  It's  only  a  coyote.  Miss  Searles,"  said  Ermine ; 
but  the  young  woman  spatted  her  horse  with  her 
whip  and  rode  bravely  after  the  flying  Shockley. 
Ermine's  fast  pony  kept  steadily  along  with  her 
under  a  pull ;  the  plainsman's  long,  easy  sway  in 
the  saddle  was  unconscious,  and  he  never  took  his 
eyes  from  the  girl,  now  quite  another  person  under 
the  excitement. 

Every  one  in  the  hunting-party  was  pumping  away 
to  the  last  ounce.  A  pack  of  greyhounds  make  a 
coyote  save  all  the  time  he  can ;  they  stimulate  his 
interest  in  life,  and  those  who  have  seen  a  good 
healthy  specimen  burn  up  the  ground  fully  realize 
the  value  of  passing  moments. 

"  Oh,  dear ;  my  hat  is  falling  off !  "  shrieked  the 
girl. 

"  Shall  I  save  it.  Miss  Searles  }  " 

**  Yes  !  yes !     Catch  it !  "  she  screamed. 

Ermine  brought  his  flying  pony  nearer  hers  on  the 
off  side  and  reached  his  hand  toward  the  flapping 


BRINGING  IN  THE  WOLF  189 

hat,  struggling  at  a  frail  anchorage  of  one  hat-pin, 
but  his  arm  grew  nerveless  at  the  near  approach  to 
divinity. 

"  Save  it !  save  it !  "  she  called. 

**  Shall  I } "  and  he  pulled  himself  together. 

Dropping  his  bridle-rein  over  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle,  standing  in  his  stirrups  as  steadily  as  a  man 
in  church,  he  undid  the  hat  with  both  hands.  When 
he  had  released  it  and  handed  it  to  its  owner,  she 
heard  him  mutter  hoarsely,  "  My  God !  " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Ermine,  I  hope  the  pin  did  not  prick 
you." 

"No,  it  wasn't  the  pin." 

"Ah,"  she  ejaculated  barely  loud  enough  for  him 
to  hear  amid  the  rushing  hoof-beats. 

The  poor  man  was  in  earnest,  and  the  idea  drove 
the  horses,  the  hounds,  and  the  coyote  out  of  her 
mind,  and  she  ran  her  mount  harder  than  ever.  She 
detested  earnest  men,  having  so  far  in  her  career 
with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Butler  found  them  great 
bores ;  but  drive  as  she  would,  the  scout  pattered  at 
her  side,  and  she  dared  not  look  at  him. 

These  two  were  by  no  means  near  the  head  of  the 
drive,  as  the  girl's  horse  was  a  stager,  which  had  been 
selected  because  he  was  highly  educated  concerning 
badger-holes  and  rocky  hillsides. 

Orderlies  clattered  behind  them,  and  Private  Patrick 
O'Dowd  and  Private  Thompson  drew  long  winks  at 
each  other. 

"  01  do  be  thinkin'  the  long  bie's  harse  cud  roon 


I90  JOHN    ERMINE 

fasther  eff  the  divil  was  afther  him.  Faith,  who'd 
roon  away  from  a  fairy  ? " 

'*  The  horse  is  running  as  fast  as  is  wanted,"  said 
Thompson,  sticking  his  hooks  into  the  Indian  pony 
which  he  rode. 

*'  Did  yez  obsarve  the  bie  ramove  the  hat  from  the 
lady,  and  his  pony  shootin'  gravel  into  our  eyes  fit  to 
smother.?"  shouted  O'Dowd,  using  the  flat  of  his 
hand  as  a  sounding-board  to  Thompson. 

"You  bet,  Pat;  and  keeping  the  gait  he  could 
take  a  shoe  off  her  horse,  if   she  wanted  it  done." 

"They  say  seein's  believin',  but  Oi'll  not  be  afther 
tellin'  the  story  in  quarters.  Oi'm  eaight  year  in  the 
ahrmy,  and  Oi  can  lie  whin  it's  convanient." 

The  dogs  overhauled  the  unfortunate  little  wolf 
despite  its  gallant  efforts,  and  it  came  out  of  the 
snarling  mass,  as  some  wag  had  expressed  it,  "  like  a 
hog  going  to  war  —  in  small  pieces."  The  field 
closed  up  and  dismounted,  soldier  fashion,  at  the 
halt. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  pony  to-day.  Ermine.? 
Expected  you'd  be  ahead  of  the  wolf  at  least,"  sang 
out  Lewis. 

"  I  stopped  to  pick  up  a  hat,"  he  explained ;  but 
Captain  Lewis  fixed  his  calculating  eye  on  his  man 
and  bit  his  mustache.  Events  had  begun  to  arrange 
themselves ;  that  drunken  night  and  Ermine's  apathy 
toward  the  Englishman's  hunting-party  —  and  he  had 
stopped  to  pick  up  her  hat  —  oho  ! 

Without  a  word  the  scout  regained  his  seat  and 


BRINGING   IN   THE   WOLF  191 

loped  away  toward  the  post,  and  Lewis  watched  him 
for  some  time,  in  a  brown  study ;  but  a  man  of  his 
years  often  fails  to  give  the  ardor  of  youth  its  proper 
value,  so  his  mind  soon  followed  more  natural 
thoughts. 

"  Your  horse  is  not  a  very  rapid  animal,  I  observe, 
Miss  Searles,"  spoke  Butler. 

"  Did  you  observe  that  ?  I  did  not  notice  that  you 
were  watching  me,  Mr.  Butler." 

"  Oh,  I  must  explain  that  in  an  affair  of  this  kind 
I  am  expected  to  sustain  the  reputation  of  the  cav- 
alry.    I  forced  myself  to  the  front." 

"Quite  right.  I  kept  the  only  man  in  the  rear, 
who  was  capable  of  spoiling  your  reputation;  you 
are  under  obligations  to  me." 

**  That  wild  man,  you  mean.  He  certainly  has  a 
wonderful  pony,  but  you  need  not  trouble  about  him 
if  it  is  to  please  me  only." 

**  I  find  this  sun  becoming  too  insistent ;  I  think 
I  will  go  back,"  said  Katherine  Searles.  Many  of 
the  women  also  turned  their  horses  homeward,  leav- 
ing only  the  more  pronounced  types  of  sportsmen  to 
search  for  another  wolf. 

"  Having  sustained  the  cavalry,  I'll  accompany 
you,  Katherine." 

"  Miss  Searles,  please !  "  she  said,  turning  to  him, 
and  the  little  gem  of  a  nose  asserted  itself. 

**0h,  dear  me!  What  have  I  done.?  You  per- 
mitted me  to  call  you  Katherine  only  last  night." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  not  proposa.  to  divide  my  friend- 


192  JOHN   ERMINE 

ship  with  a  nasty  little  gray  wolf  which  has  been 
eaten  up  alive." 

The  officer  ran  his  gauntlet  over  his  eyes. 

"I  am  such  a  booby.  I  see  my  mistake,  Miss 
Searles,  but  the  idea  you  advance  seems  so  ridiculous 
—  to  compare  yourself  with  a  wolf." 

"Oh,  I  say.  Miss  Searles,"  said  Shockley,  riding 
up,  **  may  I  offer  you  one  of  my  gauntlets .?  The 
sun,  I  fear,  will  blister  your  bare  hand." 

"  No,  indeed."  And  Butler  tore  off  a  glove,  forc- 
ing it  into  her  hand.  She  could  not  deny  him,  and 
pulled  it  on.  "  Thank  you ;  I  lost  one  of  mine  this 
morning." 

Then  she  turned  her  eyes  on  Mr.  Shockley  with  a 
hard  Uttle  expression,  which  sealed  him  up.  He  was 
prompt  to  feel  that  the  challenge  meant  war,  and 
war  with  this  girl  was  the  far-away  swing  of  that 
gallant  strategic  pendulum. 

"  Yes,"  Shockley  added,  "  one  is  apt  to  drop 
things  without  noting  them,  in  a  fast  rush.  I 
dropped  something  myself  this  morning." 

"  Pray  what  was  it,  Mr.  Shockley .? " 

'*  It  was  an  idea,"  he  replied  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders. 

"  An  idea } "  laughed  she,  appreciating  Shockley's 
discretion.  "  I  hope  you  have  more  of  them  than  I 
have  gloves." 

"  I  have  only  one,"  he  sighed. 

"Are  all  soldiers  as  stupid  as  you  are,  my  dear 
sir?" 


BRINGING  IN   THE  WOLF  193 

"All  under  thirty,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  and  this 
from  Shockley  too.  Miss  Searles  applied  the  whip ; 
but  go  as  she  would,  the  two  officers  did  not  lose 
again  the  idea,  but  kept  their  places  beside  her. 

"You  are  not  very  steady  under  fire,"  laughed 
Shockley. 

"You  are  such  an  absurd  person." 

"I  may  be  a  blessing  in  disguise." 

"You   may   be;    I   am   unable  to   identify   you." 

"The  chaperon  is  waving  her  whip  at  us,  Miss 
Searles,"  cautioned  Butler. 

"  Private  O'Dowd  is  my  chaperon,  and  he  can 
stand  the  pace,"  she  replied. 

The  young  woman  drove  on,  leaving  a  pall  of 
dust  behind,  until  the  little  party  made  the  canton- 
ment and  drew  rein  in  front  of  the  Searleses'  quarters. 
Giving  her  hand  to  the  orderly,  she  dismissed  her 
escort  and  disappeared. 

"Well,  Katherine,"  said  Mrs.  Searles,  "did  you 
enjoy  your  ride } " 

"Yes,  mother,  but  my  horse  is  such  an  old  poke 
I  was  nowhere  in  the  race." 

"The  Major  says  he  is  a  safe  horse;  one  which 
can  be  relied  on,  and  that  is  more  important  than 
speed.     I  do  not  want  your  neck  broken,  my  dear." 

"  Neither  do  I  want  my  neck  broken,  but  I  should 
like  to  be  somewhere  in  sight  during  a  run.  The 
young  officers  desert  me  once  a  wolf  is  sighted; 
they  forget  their  manners  at  the  first  flash  of  a 
greyhound." 


194  JOHN   ERMINE 

**I  know,  daughter,  but  what  can  you  expect? 
They  go  out  for  that  purpose." 

"  Mr.  Ermine  doesn't,  or  at  least  he  is  poHte 
enough  to  say  that  he  goes  out  to  see  me  run,  and 
not  the  wolf.  If  he  is  not  sophisticated,  he  seems 
to  have  the  primitive  instincts  of  a  gentleman." 

"  Mr.  Ermine,  forsooth  ! "  And  Madam  Searles 
betrayed  some  asperity.  "  Is  he  presumptuous 
enough  to  present  you  with  compliments.-*  You 
had  better  maintain  your  distance." 

**He  is  a  perfectly  delightful  man,  mother;  so 
thoughtful  and  so  handsome." 

"  Tut  tut,  Katherine ;  he  is  only  an  ordinary  scout 
—  a  wild  man." 

**  I  don't  care ;  I  like  him." 

"  Katherine,  what  are  you  thinking  of}*' 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  mother ;  I  am  thinking 
what  an  absurd  lot  men  are.  They  insist  on  talking 
nonsense  at  me.  They  do  not  seem  to  preserve 
their  reserve ;  they  are  not  a  bit  like  the  men  back 
in  the  States." 

**Well,  my  daughter,  you  must  be  careful  not 
to  provoke  familiarity.  Young  women  are  rather 
scarce  out  here,  and  you  are  not  without  your 
charms.  I  believe  you  use  your  eyes  more  than  you 
should.  Have  a  care ;  do  not  forget  that  quiet 
modesty  is  the  most  becoming  thing  in  the  world 
for  a  woman." 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  nothing ;  in  fact,  I  have  to  be 
constantly  menacing  these  military  youths  to  keep 


BRINGING   IN   THE   WOLF  195 

them  from  coming  too  near,  especially  Mr.  Shockley 
and  Mr.  Butler.  I  am  in  distress  every  minute  for 
fear  Mr.  Butler  will  say  more  than  I  am  ready  to 
hear." 

Mrs.  Searles  was  by  no  means  averse  to  Butler's 
attentions  to  her  daughter.  *'  A  very  fine  young 
man,"  was  her  comment  when  she  thought  of  him. 
Both  women  knew  that  the  Lieutenant  was  ready  to 
draw  his  sabre  in  Katherine's  behalf. 

Katherine  had  met  Butler  while  visiting  St. 
Louis  the  year  before,  had  come  to  know  him  well, 
and  didn't  pretend  to  dislike  him.  His  father  and 
mother  were  dead,  but  his  people  were  of  conse- 
quence. 

Mrs.  Searles  determined  to  ask  the  Major  to 
make  some  inquiries  about  her  daughter's  suitor,  and 
meanwhile  dismissed  Katherine  with  the  caution  not 
to  tempt  this  midday  sun  overmuch ;  "  It  will  soon  turn 
your  peach-blow  into  russet  apples,"  she  told  her, 
"  and  men,  you  know,  like  the  peach-blow.  Without 
it  you  might  be  less  troubled  by  the  young  officers." 

*  *  m  *  *  Mi 

The  sun  was  about  to  depart.  The  families  of  the 
officers  were  sitting  under  their  ramadas  enjoying  the 
cool.  Butler  and  Shockley  with  two  or  three  other 
men  were  seated  with  the  Searleses  when  their  attention 
was  attracted  by  a  commotion  down  by  the  quarters. 

"What's  the  circus.?" 

"  Don't  make  out ;  seems  to  be  coming  this  way. 
It  is  —  why,  it  is  the  scout  Ermine  !  " 


196  JOHN    ERMINE 

The  group  sat  expectantly  and  witnessed  the  ap- 
proach of  John  Ermine  on  his  horse.  At  some  distance 
to  one  side  rode  Wolf- Voice,  and  gradually  through 
the  dusk  they  made  out  some  small  animal  between 
them  —  a  dog-like  thing. 

The  riders  drew  up  before  the  Searleses'  hut,  and 
every  one  rose.  The  object  was  a  scared  and  de- 
moralized wolf  with  his  tail  between  his  legs.  His 
neck  was  encircled  by  two  rawhide  lariats  which  ran 
to  the  pommels  of  the  riders. 

Touching  his  hat.  Ermine  said,  "  Miss  Searles,  I 
have  brought  you  the  wolf." 

"Goodness  gracious,  Mr.  Ermine!  I  only  said 
that  in  fun.     What  can  I  possibly  do  with  a  wolf } " 

"  I  don't  know.  You  said  you  wanted  one,  so  here 
he  is." 

"  Yaes,"  said  Wolf -Voice,  with  an  oath,  "  she  was 
bite  my  harm  hoff ;  you  no  want  heem ;  I  skin  her 
alive."  He  had  previously  warned  Ermine  that  no 
one  but  a  d fool  would  want  a  live  wolf. 

"  Well,  daughter,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ? 
Start  a  Zoo  ?  I  don't  know  where  we  can  put  him," 
spoke  Major  Searles,  in  perplexity. 

"  He  will  have  to  roost  high  if  the  dogs  find  out 
about  this  visitation,"  observed  Shockley. 

"  How  did  you  get  him,  Ermine  ? " 

"  Dug  him  out  of  his  den,  and  before  we  got  him 
roped  he  pinched  Wolf-Voice,  and  I  had  a  hard  time 
to  keep  him  from  killing  the  beast." 

"  Yaes ;  no  want  him,  an'  we  dig  a  hole  mile  deep 


BRINGING   IN   THE   WOLF  197 

mabeso  —  dig  ever  since  sun  she  so  high,  ten-as  tol-a- 
pas."  And  in  his  disgust  Wolf -Voice  was  about  to 
slacken  his  rope. 

"  Hold  up  there ;  don't  turn  that  animal  loose 
near  here !  Take  him  down  to  the  corral  and  lock  him 
up.  We'll  see  to-morrow  what  can  be  done  with  him," 
spoke  Searles. 

Ermine  and  Wolf -Voice  turned  and  drifted  out  into 
the  gathering  darkness  with  their  forlorn  tow,  while 
a  few  soldiers  with  clubs  fought  the  dogs  off  as  they 
gradually  began  to  gather  around  their  natural  enemy. 

"  Why,  I  only  asked  for  a  wolf  in  the  most  casual 
way  — in  a  joking  way ;  you  heard  me,  Mr.  Shockley." 

"  Yes,  I  did  hear  you,  but  I  also  heard  him  say  you 
should  have  one,  and  I  thought  at  the  time  he  looked 
serious  about  it." 

"  I  was  so  astonished  that  I  did  not  properly  thank 
him,"  she  added ;  **  and  the  Indian  was  in  a  lovely 
humor  over  the  whole  episode ;  his  disgust  was  most 
apparent.  I  must  be  more  careful  what  I  say  to 
Mr.  Ermine." 

"I  have  it,"  cried  the  Major;  "we'll make  up  a 
purse,  buy  the  wolf,  and  run  him  so  soon  as  he  gets 
over  the  effects  of  his  capture." 

"  No,  no,  papa,  you  must  not  offend  Ermine  with 
money.  He  would  be  awfully  offended;  that  would 
be  the  very  last  thing  to  do  to  him." 


CHAPTER  XVI 


A  HUNT 


^#\         TROOP   of  cavalry   trotted 
J^       \         along     through    the     early 
*''*'  ""^      morning    dust,    and    Lieu- 

tenant Butler  drew  out  at 
the  Searleses'  quarters,  ty- 
ing his  horse  for  a  moment 
in  front,  while  he  went 
inside.  It  was  early  for 
casual  people.  He  did  not 
stay  long,  but  the  sergeant  in  the 
rear  thought  he  saw  a  girl  come 
to  the  door  and  kiss  him  good-by. 
As  the  officer  dashed  to  the  head 
of  the  troop,  the  old  sergeant  dipped  a  smiling 
countenance  deep  into  a  plug  of  tobacco. 

**  Hello !  there  goes  Butler  with  his  troop,"  said 
Mr.  Harding  to  Captain  Lewis,  as  they  basked  in  the 
morning  sun  before  that  officer's  quarters. 

"Yes,  he  goes  to  escort  some  wagons;  but  the 
fact  is,  internecine  war  has  broken  out  in  the  post, 
and  he  goes  for  the  good  of  the  service.  It's  all  about 
a  damn  little  yellow  dog." 

**  A  dog  make  a  war !     How,  pray  ? " 
198 


A   HUNT  199 

"  Oh  gee  !  yes  1  Dogs  and  rum  and  women  make 
all  the  trouble  there  is  in  the  army,  and  particularly 
dogs.  That  sounds  odd,  doesn't  it?  Nevertheless, 
it's  a  hard,  dry  fact.  Soldiers  take  to  dogs,  and  it's 
always  *  kick  my  dog  kick  me '  with  these  bucks. 
That  troop  has  a  miserable  runt  of  2ificey  and  he's 
smart  the  same  as  such  pups  often  are.  The  cavalry- 
men have  taught  him  to  nip  at  infantrymen,  which 
they  think  is  great  fun.  Some  of  the  infantrymen 
got  tired  of  sewing  up  three-cornered  tears  in 
their  galligaskins  and  allowed  they  would  assas- 
sinate said  fice.  Here  is  where  these  baby  cavalry- 
men lose  their  temper  and  threaten  to  fire  on  the 
company-quarters  of  any  outfit  which  bags  Fido  — 
and  that's  war.  It  has  been  fixed  up.  Some  officer 
has  arranged  an  armistice,  and  meanwhile  the  troop 
gets  a  few  miles  in  the  sage-brush,  which,  it  is  hoped, 
will  be  credited  to  the  pup,  whereat  he  won't  be  so 
popular." 

"Ah,  a  very  sad  case  for  the  doggie,"  added  Harding; 
"  he  was  taught  to  take  wrong  views  of  the  service." 

"  Let  us  go  down  and  take  a  look  at  Ermine's 
wolf,"  said  Lewis,  and  the  two  proceeded  to  the  quarter- 
master's corral,  where  they  found  a  group  standing 
about  the  wolf. 

It  was  held  by  a  stout  chain  and  lay  flat  on  the 
ground,  displaying  an  entire  apathy  concerning  the 
surroundings,  except  that  it  looked  "Injuny,"  as  a 
passing  mule-skinner  observed. 

"  When  I  see  one  of  those  boys,  it  makes  my  back 


20O  JOHN   ERMINE 

come  up  like  a  cat's,"  said  Lewis.  "A  bunch  of  them 
nearly  pulled  me  down  two  years  ago  on  the  Cana- 
dian. I  fired  all  my  ammunition  at  them  and  got 
into  camp  just  about  the  right  time ;  a  half  a  mile 
more  and  I  would  have  got  my  *  final  statement.'  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  hunted  them  in  Poland,  on  moonlight 
nights.  A  wolf  in  the  deep  forests  on  a  moonlight 
night  harmonizes  better  than  one  tied  by  a  chain,  with 
twenty  men  staring  at  him  in  broad  daylight." 

An  irrepressible  private  shoved  his  nose  into  the 
circle,  looked  at  the  captive,  and  departed  saying  :  — 

"  He  enlisted  in  the  army, 
The  bullets  took  their  toll, 
The  wolves  got  his  body, 
And  the  divil  got  his  soul. 
Om-a  yah-ha-ha." 

Poor  wolf !  He  possessed  too  many  attributes  of 
man  to  ingratiate  himself.  He  did  not  admit  their 
superiority,  and  lay  stoically  under  the  heel  of  the 
conqueror ;  all  thumbs  were  down  for  him. 

He  was  apostrophized  by  a  soldier :  "  Ah,  me  in- 
nocent-lukin'  child  of  the  divil  —  wait  till  ye  git  thim 
hoop-shnake  dawgs  afther  yez." 

Major  Searles  rode  in  through  the  gate  and  sang 
out :  **  The  Colonel  has  a  few  papers  to  sign,  after 
which  he  says  we  will  chase  the  wolf;  so  you  can 
get  ready,  gentlemen,  those  who  care  to  run."  And 
then  to  Ermine,  who  stood  near :  "  Miss  Searles 
thinks  that  will  be  a  proper  disposition  of  your  valu- 
able present.     Can  you  manage  to  turn  him  loose  ^ " 


A  HUNT  20I 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  we  can.  Putting  the  ropes 
on  him  is  easier  than  taking  them  off.  I  won't  take 
him  out  until  you  are  all  ready;  every  dog  in  the 
camp  will  fly  at  him.  Can  I  have  four  or  five  sol- 
diers to  drive  them  off .''  Wolf- Voice  and  myself  will 
be  on  horseback,  and  can't  protect  him." 

"  Certainly,  certainly ! "  And  under  the  Major's 
directions  various  soldiers  armed  themselves  with 
whips,  and  undertook  to  make  a  rear-guard  fight 
with  the  garrison  pups. 

Horses  were  saddled,  and  went  clattering  to  all 
points  of  the  post.  The  certainty  of  a  run  drew 
every  one  out.  Shockley  aided  Miss  Searles  to 
mount,  saying,  "  I  am  on  duty  to-day ;  my  thoughts 
will  fly  where  my  pony  should.  You  cannot  doubt 
where  he  would  go." 

"Poor  man,  do  not  look  so  woebegone;  it  does 
not  become  you.  I  like  you  better  when  you  sing 
than  when  you  cry." 

"  If  you  didn't  make  me  cry,  I  should  sing  all  the 
time." 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  bad  for  your  voice,  my  dear 
Mr.  Shockley,  as  we  say  on  a  letter  head."  And 
she  mocked  him  beyond  her  rapier  point,  as  she  rode 
along,  followed  by  the  rapidly  receding  words  :  — 

"  Don't  forget  me,  Molly  darling ; 
Put  your  little  hand  in  mine. 
Tell  me  truly  that  you  love  me, 
And  —  " 

The  rest  died  behind  her. 


202  JOHN    ERMINE 

"  He  is  such  a  nice  fellow,"  she  mused,  *'  but  there's 
more  music  in  his  soul  than  in  his  throat.  I  shall 
miss  him  to-day,  but  not  so  much  as  I  shall  Mr. 
Butler ;  and  there  is  my  knight  of  the  yellow  hair. 
Oh!  I  must  be  careful  of  him.  He  is  such  a 
direct  person,  there  is  no  parrying  his  assault.  His 
presence  has  a  strange  effect  on  me;  I  do  not 
understand  it;  he  is  queer.  What  a  pity  he  is 
not  an  officer,  with  short  hair ;  but  pshaw !  I  might 
not  like  him  then;  how  absurd,  I  do  not  like  him 
now."  And  thus  the  girlish  emotions  swayed  her 
pretty  head,  not  stopping  to  clarify,  man  fashion. 
They  flitted  about  on  every  little  wind,  and  alighted 
nowhere  for  more  than  a  few  seconds. 

Other  women  joined  her,  and  a  few  men,  all  mak- 
ing for  the  quartermaster's. 

"Your  mother  finds  herself  past  riding.  Miss 
Katherine,"  spoke  one  merry  matron,  to  whom  age 
had  been  generous,  and  who  was  past  it  herself,  did 
she  but  know  it. 

"  Yes,  mother  takes  that  view.  I  am  afraid  I  can- 
not sustain  the  reputation  of  the  Searles  outfit,  as 
the  phrase  goes  here.  My  horse  is  a  Dobbin  — 
papa  is  so  absurdly  careful.  There  is  no  fun  in 
being  careful." 

"Oh,  the  Major  is  right.  He  knows  the  value  of 
that  little  nose  of  yours,  and  doesn't  want  it  ploughed 
in  the  dirt.  Noses  which  point  upward,  just  ever  so 
little,  lack  the  severity  of  those  that  point  down,  in 
women ;  that  is  what  the  men  tell  me,  Katherine." 


A  HUNT  203 

The  girl  glanced  at  her  companion,  and  doubted 
not  that  the  men  had  said  that  to  her. 

"  I  don't  care  to  go  through  life  thinking  of  my 
nose,"  she  added. 

"  No,  indeed ;  never  think  of  your  nose ;  think  of 
what  men  think  of  it." 

"  I  can  go  home  and  do  that,  Mrs.  Gooding ;  out 
here  my  horse  seems  more  to  the  point  than  my 
nose."  At  this  juncture  some  men  opened  the  corral 
gate,  and  the  women  passed  in. 

Seeing  the  wolf  flattened  out  like  an  unoratorical 
man  at  a  banquet,  who  knows  he  is  next  on  the  toast- 
list.  Miss  Searles  exclaimed,  "  Poor  creature !  it  seems 
such  a  shame." 

And  the  others  added,  "  Now  that  I  see  him  I  feel 
like  a  butcher." 

"Let  him  go.  Major;  we  will  not  have  his  murder 
on  our  conscience,"  continued  a  third. 

"  I  should  as  soon  think  of  killing  a  canary  in  a 
cage."  And  thus  did  the  gentler  sex  fail  at  this  stage; 
but  when  the  Colonel  rode  out  of  the  enclosure,  they 
all  followed. 

The  wolf  rose  to  its  feet  with  a  snap  as  the  half- 
breed  and  Ermine  approached,  curling  their  lariats. 
A  few  deft  turns,  and  the  ropes  drew  around  the 
captive's  throat.  A  man  undid  the  chain,  the  horse 
started,  and  the  wild  beast  drew  after,  a  whizzing 
blur  of  gray  hair. 

There  was  some  difficulty  in  passing  the  gate,  but 
that   was   managed.     The   remembrance  of    yester- 


204  JOHN   ERMINE 

day's  experience  in  the  rawhide  coils  came  back  to 
the  wolf.  It  slunk  along,  tail  down,  and  with  head 
turning  in  scared  anxious  glances.  Behind  followed 
the  rear-guard,  waving  their  whips  at  various  feeble- 
minded ki-yis  which  were  emboldened  by  their  own 
yelling. 

"  Colonel,  give  me  a  good  start ;  this  is  a  female 
wolf.  I  will  raise  my  hat  and  drop  it  on  the  ground 
when  it  is  time  to  let  the  dogs  go !  We  may  have 
trouble  clearing  away  these  ropes,"  talked  Ermine, 
loudly. 

"  Sacre  —  mi-ka-tic-eh  muck-a-muck  —  dees  dam 
wolf  he  have  already  bite  de  hole  in  my  rope  ver 
near,"  and  Wolf -Voice  gave  a  severe  jerk.  To  be 
sure,  the  animal  was  already  playing  havoc  with  his 
lariat  by  savage  side-snaps  which  bade  fair  shortly  to 
shred  it. 

"  Watch  my  hat,  Colonel ;  she  may  get  away  from 
us  before  we  are  ready." 

Well  outside  of  the  post  the  Colonel  halted  his 
field  and  waited ;  all  eyes  bent  on  the  two  wild  men, 
with  their  dangerous  bait,  going  up  the  road.  The 
nimble  ponies  darted  about  in  response  to  the  riders' 
swayings,  while  at  intervals  the  wolf  gave  an  imita- 
tion of  a  pin-wheel. 

When  well  out,  Wolf -Voice  yelled,  "Ah,  dare  go 
my  rope ! " 

The  wolf  had  cut  it,  and  turning,  fixed  its  eyes  on 
Ermine,  who  stopped  and  shook  his  lariat  carefully, 
rolling  it  in  friendly  circles  toward  the  wolf.     Wolf- 


A   HUNT  305 

Voice  drew  his  gun,  and  for  an  appreciable  time  the 
situation  had  limitless  possibilities.  By  the  exercise 
of  an  intelHgence  not  at  all  rare  in  wild  creatures, 
the  wolf  lay  down  and  clawed  at  the  rope.  In  an 
instant  it  was  free  and  galloping  off,  turning  its 
head  to  study  the  strategy  of  the  field. 

"  Wait  for  the  people ;  she's  going  for  the  timber, 
and  will  get  away,"  shouted  Ermine,  casting  his  big 
sombrero  into  the  air. 

The  dogs  held  in  leash  never  lost  sight  of  the  gray 
fellow,  and  when  let  go  were  soon  whippeting  along. 
The  horses  sank  on  their  quarters  and  heaved  them- 
selves forward  until  the  dusty  plain  groaned  under 
their  feet. 

**  Ki-yi-yi-yi,"  called  the  soldiers,  imitating  the 
Indians  who  had  so  often  swept  in  front  of  their  guns. 

The  wolf  fled,  a  gray  shadow  borne  on  the  wind, 
making  for  the  timber  in  the  river-bottom.  It  had 
a  long  start  and  a  fair  hope.  If  it  had  understood 
how  vain  the  noses  of  greyhounds  are,  it  might 
have  cut  its  angle  to  cover  a  little;  for  once  out  of 
sight  it  might  soon  take  itself  safely  off;  but  no 
wild  animal  can  afford  to  angle  much  before  the 
spider  dogs. 

The  field  was  bunched  at  the  start  and  kicked  up 
a  vast  choking  dust,  causing  many  slow  riders  to 
deploy  out  on  the  sides,  where  they  could  at  least 
see  the  chase  and  the  going  in  front  of  them.  Wolf- 
Voice  and  Ermine  had  gone  to  opposite  sides  and 
were  lost  in  the  rush. 


2o6  JOHN   ERMINE 

Ermine's  interest  in  the  wolf  departed  with  it. 
He  now  swung  his  active  pony  through  the  dirt 
clouds,  seeking  the  girl,  and  at  last  found  her,  well 
in  the  rear  as  usual,  and  unescorted,  after  the  usual 
luck  she  encountered  when  she  played  her  charms 
against  a  wolf.  She  was  trying  to  escape  from  the 
pall  by  edging  off  toward  the  river-bank.  Well 
behind  strode  the  swift  war-pony,  and  Ermine  de- 
voured her  with  his  eyes.  The  impulse  to  seize 
and  bear  her  away  to  the  inaccessible  fastnesses  of 
which  he  knew  was  overcome  by  a  fear  of  her  —  a 
fear  so  great  that  his  blood  turned  to  water  when 
his  passion  was  greatest. 

Time  did  not  improve  Ermine's  logistics  concern- 
ing this  girl ;  he  wanted  her,  and  he  did  not  know  in 
the  least  how  to  get  her.  The  tigers  of  his  imagina- 
tion bit  and  clawed  each  other  in  ferocious  combat 
when  he  looked  at  her  back  as  she  rode  or  at  her 
pensive  photograph  in  the  quiet  of  his  tent.  When, 
however,  she  turned  the  battery  of  her  eyes  on  him, 
the  fever  left  him  in  a  dull,  chilly  lethargy  —  a 
realization  of  the  hopelessness  of  his  yearning ;  and 
plot  and  plan  and  assuage  his  fears  as  he  might,  he 
was  always  left  in  a  mustache-biting  perplexity. 
He  could  not  at  will  make  the  easy  reconnaissance 
of  her  fortresses  which  the  young  officers  did,  and 
this  thought  maddened  him.  It  poisoned  his  mind 
and  left  his  soul  like  a  dead  fish  cast  up  on  a 
river-bank. 

Ermine  had  known   the  easy   familiarity  of   the 


A  HUNT  207 

Indian  squaws,  but  none  of  them  had  ever  stirred 
him.  The  vast  silence  of  his  mountain  hfe  had 
rarely  been  broken  by  the  presence  of  men,  and 
never  by  women.  The  prophet  had  utterly  neglected 
the  boy's  emotions  in  the  interest  of  his  intellect. 
The  intense  poverty  of  his  experience  left  him  with- 
out any  understanding  of  the  most  ordinary  conven- 
tions or  casual  affairs  of  white  men's  lives.  All  he 
knew  was  gathered  from  his  observation  of  the  rude 
relations  of  frontier  soldiers  on  campaign.  The 
visions  of  angels  never  exalted  a  fasting  mediaeval 
monk  in  his  cell  as  did  the  advent  of  this  white 
woman  to  Ermine,  and  they  were  quite  as  nebulous. 

The  powerful  appeal  which  Katherine  Searles  made 
to  his  imagination  was  beyond  the  power  of  his  analy- 
sis ;  the  word  Love  was  unknown  to  his  vocabulary. 
He  wanted  her  body,  he  wanted  her  mind,  and  he 
wanted  her  soul  merged  with  his,  but  as  he  looked 
at  her  now,  his  mouth  grew  dry,  like  a  man  in  mortal 
fear  or  mortal  agony. 

And  thinking  thus,  he  saw  her  horse  stop  dead  — 
sink  —  and  go  heels  up  and  over  in  a  complete 
somersault.  The  girl  fluttered  through  the  air  and 
struck,  raising  a  dust  which  almost  concealed  her. 
A  savage  slap  of  his  quirt  made  his  pony  tear  the 
ground  in  his  frantic  rush  to  her  aid.  No  one 
noticed  the  accident,  and  the  chase  swept  around 
the  bluffs  and  left  him  kneeling  beside  her.  She 
showed  no  sign  of  life ;  the  peach-blow  left  her 
cheeks  an  ivory  white,  set  with  pearls  when  the  high 


2o8  JOHN   ERMINE 

lights  showed,  but  there  was  no  blood  or  wound 
which  he  could  see. 

Her  mount  struggled  to  extract  his  poor  broken 
foreleg  from  a  gopher-hole,  where  it  was  sunk  to 
the  elbow.  He  raised  his  head,  with  its  eyes  rolling, 
and  groaned  in  agony. 

If  this  had  been  a  man,  or  even  any  other  woman, 
Ermine  would  have  known  what  to  do.  In  his  life 
a  wounded  or  broken  man  had  been  a  frequent 
experience.  As  he  took  her  wrist  to  feel  her  pulse, 
his  own  hands  trembled  so  that  he  gave  over ;  he 
could  feel  nothing  but  the  mad  torrent  of  his  own 
blood. 

Turning  his  face  in  the  direction  where  the  hunt 
had  gone,  he  yelled,  "  Help !  help !  "  but  the  sound 
never  reached  the  thudding  hunt.  Putting  his  arm 
under  her  shoulder,  he  raised  her  up,  and  supporting 
her,  he  looked  hopelessly  around  until  his  eye  fell  on 
the  Yellowstone  only  a  short  distance  away.  Water 
had  always  been  what  the  wounded  wanted.  He 
slowly  gathered  her  in  his  arms,  gained  his  feet,  and 
made  his  way  toward  the  river.  A  gopher-hole  had 
planned  what  Ermine  never  could;  it  had  brought 
her  body  to  him,  but  it  might  be  a  useless  gift  unless 
the  water  gave  him  back  her  life. 

He  bore  the  limp  form  to  the  sands  beside  the 
flowing  river  and  laid  it  down  while  he  ran  to  fill  his 
hat  with  water.  He  made  fast  work  of  his  restora- 
tion, rubbing  her  wrists  and  sprinkling  her  forehead 
with  water ;  but  it  was  long  before  a  reward  came  in 


^'^Vil\'{ 


*♦     ^'     ^  *  'J    »  >  •)   ' 


He  bore  the  limp  form  to  the  sands. 


A   HUNT  211 

the  way  of  a  breath  and  a  sigh.  Again  he  raised  her 
in  a  sitting  position  against  his  knee. 

**  Breathe,  Katherine  —  try  again — now  breathe." 
And  he  pressed  her  chest  with  his  hand,  aiding  nature 
as  best  he  knew,  until  she  sighed  again  and  again. 

The  girl  was  half  damp  in  death,  while  Hke  a  burn- 
ing mine  the  pent-up  fire-damp  exploded  and  rever- 
berated through  the  veins  of  the  young  man.  Oh,  if 
he  could  but  impart  his  vitality  to  her.  Possibly  he 
did,  for  presently  her  weakness  permitted  her  to  note 
that  the  sky  was  blue,  that  the  tree-tops  waved  in 
familiar  forms,  that  the  air  flooded  her  lungs,  and  that 
a  cooling  rain  was  falling.  Again  she  drifted  some- 
where away  from  the  earth  in  pleasant  passage 
through  kaleidoscopic  dreams  of  all  a  girl's  subcon- 
sciousness ever  offers. 

Her  eyes  spread,  but  soon  closed  in  complete  rest 
against  the  easy  cradle.  She  sensed  kindly  caresses 
and  warm  kisses  which  delighted  her.  The  long  yel- 
low hair  hung  about  her  face  and  kept  it  shadowed 
from  the  hot  sun. 

"  Oh  my !  Oh  my !  Where  am  I  ?  Is  that  you  — 
How  do  I  —  "  but  the  effort  exhausted  her. 

"God  —  God — Sak-a-war-te  come  quick!  It  will 
be  too  late."     He  put  more  water  on  her  face. 


The  hunt  missed  the  wolf  in  the  cover  of  the  river- 
bottom.  It  doubled  on  the  dogs,  and  out  of  sight 
was  out  of  mind  with  the  fast-running  hounds. 


212  JOHN   ERMINE 

**She  gave  us  a  run,  anyhow,"  sang  out  Major 
Searles  to  Wolf- Voice. 

"  Yaes,  d him ;   she  give  me  a  bite  and  two 

run.  What  good  was  come  of  eet,  hey  —  why  ain't 
you  keel  him  first  plass,  by  Gar?" 

**  Oh !  you  are  a  poor  sport,  Wolf -Voice." 

"  Am  poor  sport,  hey }  All  right ;  nex'  wolf  she 
not  tink  dat,  mabeso." 

Laughing  and  talking,  they  trotted  home,  picking 
up  belated  ones  who  had  strung  behind  the  fastest 
horses. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Searles,  Major?  "  spoke  one. 

"  That's  so !  don't  know  ;  had  a  slow  horse ;  by 
Gad,  we  must  look  this  up."  And  the  now  anxious 
father  galloped  his  mount.  The  others  followed  sym- 
pathetically. Rounding  the  bluffs,  they  saw  Er- 
mine's pony  quietly  feeding. 

"  Where  is  Ermine  ?  "  came  a  hail  of  questions, 
and  presently  they  almost  ran  over  the  girl's  horse, 
now  lying  on  its  side,  breathing  heavily,  and  no 
longer  trying  to  disengage  his  leg  from  the  gopher- 
hole. 

"The  horse  is  in  a  gopher-hole,"  said  some  one; 
"  and  see  here  —  look  at  the  dirt ;  he  has  thrown  Miss 
Searles;  here  is  where  she  struck." 

"Yes,  but  where  is  she?  where  is  she?"  ejacu- 
lated the  Major,  in  a  nervous  tremor  of  excitement. 
"  Where  is  my  girl  ? " 

Wolf- Voice  had  dismounted  and  found  Ermine's 
trail,  which  he  followed  toward  the  river. 


A   HUNT  213 

"  Come !  "  he  called.     "  Am  show  you  dose  girl !  " 

While  an  orderly  stayed  behind  to  shoot  the  horse 
and  get  the  empty  saddle,  the  group  followed  hard 
on  the  half-breed. 

"  Done  you  ride  on  de  trail,  you  was  keep  behine. 
Dey  girl  was  broke  his  neck,  an'  Ermine  am  pack 
him." 

Stepping  briskly  forward,  the  plainsman  made 
quick  work  of  empty  moccasin  tracks  and  burst 
through  the  brush.  A  pistol-shot  rang  in  the  rear; 
an  orderly  had  shot  the  horse.  A  cry  of  "  Help, 
help  !  "  responded  from  the  river  beyond  the  cotton- 
woods,  and  the  horses  ploughed  their  way  to  the 
sands.  The  people  all  dismounted  around  the  limp 
figure  and  kneeling  scout.  Her  pale  face,  the  hat 
with  the  water  in  it,  and  the  horse  in  the  gopher-hole 
made  everything  clear. 

"  Here,  Swan,  ride  to  the  post  for  an  ambulance," 
spoke  the  Major,  as  he  too  knelt  and  took  his 
daughter  in  his  arms.  "Ride  the  horse  to  death 
and  tell  the  ambulance  to  come  running."  Some 
of  the  women  brought  their  ministering  hands  to 
bear  and  with  more  effect. 

"What  happened,  Katherine.?"  whispered  her 
father  amid  the  eager  silence  of  the  gathered  people. 

"What  did  I  do  ?  "  she  pleaded  weakly. 

"  How  was  it,  Ermine  ? " 

"  Her  horse  put  his  foot  in  a  hole ;  he  is  out  there 
now.  I  saw  her  go  down.  Then  I  tried  to  save  her. 
Will  she  live .? " 


214  JOHN   ERMINE 

Ermine's  eager  interest  had  not  departed  because 
of  the  advent  of  so  many  people.  He  still  continued 
to  kneel  and  to  gaze  in  rapture  at  the  creature  of  his 
hopes  and  fears.  No  one  saw  anything  in  it  but  the 
natural  interest  of  one  who  had  been  left  with  so 
much  responsibility. 

**  If  you  men  will  retire,  we  will  endeavor  to  find 
her  injuries,"  spoke  one  of  the  older  ladies;  so  the 
men  withdrew. 

Every  one  asked  eager  questions  of  the  scout,  who 
walked  hat  in  hand,  and  had  never  before  shown  per- 
turbation under  the  trying  situations  in  which  he  and 
the  soldiers  had  been  placed. 

*'  I  knew  that  wolf  would  get  away  in  the  timber, 
and  I  wasn't  going  to  ride  my  pony  for  the  fun  of 
seeing  it,  so  I  was  behind.  Miss  Searles's  horse 
was  slow,  and  I  noticed  she  was  being  left ;  then  she 
went  down  and  I  didn't  know  what  to  do,"  —  which 
latter  statement  was  true. 

He  had  done  as  well  under  the  circumstances  as 
any  man  could,  they  all  admitted.  A  magpie  on  an 
adjoining  limb  jeered  at  the  soldiers,  though  he  made 
no  mention  of  anything  further  than  the  scout  had 
admitted. 

In  due  course  the  ambulance  came  bounding  be- 
hind the  straining  mules.  Mrs.  Searles  was  on  the 
seat  with  the  driver,  hatless,  and  white  with  fear. 
The  young  woman  was  placed  in  and  taken  slowly 
to  quarters.  Being  the  only  witness.  Ermine  repeated 
his  story  until  he  grew  tired  of  speech  and  wanted 


A   HUNT  215 

only  silence  which  would  enable  him  to  think.  The 
greatest  event  of  his  life  had  happened  to  him  that 
morning ;  it  had  come  in  a  curious  way ;  it  had  lasted 
but  a  few  moments,  but  it  had  added  new  fuel  to 
his  burning  mind,  which  bade  fair  to  consume  it 
altogether. 

Miss  Searles's  injuries  consisted  of  a  few  bruises 
and  a  general  shock  from  which  she  would  soon 
recover,  said  the  doctor,  and  the  cantonment  slowly 
regathered  its  composure,  all  except  Shockley,  who 
sat,  head  down,  in  most  disordered  thought,  slowly 
punctuating  events  as  they  came  to  him,  by  beating 
on  the  floor  with  his  scabbard. 

"  And  she  gave  him  her  glove  and  she  never  gave 
me  any  glove  —  and  she  never  gave  Butler  her  glove 
that  I  know  of ;  and  he  gave  her  a  wolf  and  he  was 
with  her  when  this  thing  happened.  Say,  Shockley, 
me  boy,  you  are  too  slow,  you  are  rusty ;  if  you  saw 
an  ancient  widow  woman  chopping  wood,  you  would 
think  she  was  in  love  with  the  wood-pile."  And  thus 
did  that  worthy  arrive  at  wrong  conclusions.  He 
would  not  give  himself  the  credit  of  being  only  a  man, 
whom  God  in  the  wisdom  of  His  creation  did  not  in- 
tend to  understand  women  and  thus  deaden  a  world. 

The  camp  was  in  ignorance  of  the  points  of  con- 
tact between  Katherine  Searles  and  the  scout;  it 
felt  none  of  the  concern  which  distressed  Shockley. 

Miss  Searles  had  known  Butler  back  in  the  States ; 
they  were  much  together  here  on  the  Yellowstone, 
and  it  was  pretty  generally  admitted  that  in  so  far  as 


2i6  JOHN   ERMINE 

she  was  concerned  Lieutenant  Butler  had  the  biggest 
pair  of  antlers  in  the  garrison.  That  young  officer 
was  a  fine  soldier  —  one  of  the  best  products  of  West 
Point,  and  was  well  connected  back  East,  which  was 
no  small  thing  in  an  affair  of  this  nature.  Also  his 
fellows  easily  calculated  that  he  must  have  more  than 
his  pay.  Shockley,  however,  continued  to  study  the 
strategy  of  the  scout  Ermine,  and  he  saw  much  to 
fear. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


A  PROPOSAL 


o";' 


say,  Captain  Lewis, 
am  all  ready  to  start. 
I  have  Ramon,  a  cook, 
and  Wolf- Voice,  together 
with  pack-animals,  but  I 
can't  get  your  man  Ermine 
to  say  when  he  will  go." 

"That's  odd,  Harding; 
I  don't  know  of  anything 
to  detain  him.  But  go  slow ;  he's  like  all  these  wild 
men  up  here;  when  they  will  they  will,  and  when 
they  won't,  they'll  lay  down  on  you.  I'll  go  round 
and  scout  him  up.  What  is  the  matter  so  far  as 
you  can  determine.?" 

"  I  can't  determine.  He  says  he  will  go,  but  will 
not  name  any  exact  time ;  tells  me  to  push  on  and 
that  he  will  catch  up.  That  is  a  curious  proposition. 
He  is  willing  to  take  my  money  —  " 

"  Oh !  whoa  up,  Mr.  Harding !  That  fellow  doesn't 
care  anything  about  your  money  —  make  no  mistake 
about  that.  Money  means  no  more  to  him  than  to  a 
blue  jay.     He  wanted  to  go  back  to  his  own  country 

217 


2i8  JOHN   ERMINE 

and  was  willing,  incidentally,  to  take  you.  I'll  see; 
you  wait  here  awhile ;  "  saying  which.  Captain  Lewis 
went  in  search  of  his  man,  whom  he  found  whittling 
a  stick  pensively. 

"  Hello,  my  boy,  you  don't  seem  to  be  very  busy. 
Suppose  your  heart  is  out  in  the  hills  chasing  the  elk 
and  bear." 

"  No,  Captain ;  I  don't  care  much  about  the  hills." 

"Or  the  Crow  squaws.?" 

"  D the  Crow  squaws  ! "  And  Ermine  empha- 
sized this  by  cutting  his  stick  through  the  middle. 

"  Want  to  stay  here  } " 

"  Yes,  I  am  getting  so  I  like  this  camp ;  like  the 
soldiers  —  like  the  wagons  —  kind  of  like  the  whole 
outfit." 

"  Like  to  chase  wolves  ? "  interrupted  the  officer. 

Ermine  slowly  turned  up  his  head  and  settled  his 
fathomless  blue  eyes  on  Lewis,  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Harding  is  all  set.  You  said  you 
would  go  with  him ;  a  soldier  must  keep  his  word." 

"  I  will  go  with  him." 

"When.?" 

Again  Ermine  shaved  some  delicate  slivers  off 
the  stick;  suddenly  he  threw  it  away,  shut  up  his 
knife,  and  arose.  "  If  Mr.  Harding  will  pull  out 
now,  Wolf-Voice  will  show  him  the  way.  I  shall 
know  where  the  Indian  takes  him,  and  in  four  days 
I  will  walk  into  his  camp.  The  pack-ponies  travel 
slowly,  I  do  not  care  to  punch  pack-horses;  that 
will  do  for  Ramon  and  the  cook." 


A  PROPOSAL  219 

"Does  that  go?" 

"  I  have  said  it.  Did  I  ever  Ke,  Captain  Lewis  ? " 
"All  right.  Mr.  Harding  will  go  now.  I  will 
attend  to  that."  With  this  Lewis  left  him,  and  in 
two  hours  the  little  cavalcade  trotted  westward,  out 
into  the  hot,  sunlit  plains,  carrying  faith  in  Ermine's 
word.     The  scout,  leaning  on  a  log  stable,  saw  them 

go- 
Three  days  took  their  slow  departure,  and  on  the 
morrow  Ermine  would  have  to  make  good  his  word 
to  follow  the  Englishmen.  He  would  have  liked  to 
stay  even  if  his  body  suffered  slow  fire,  but  excuses 
would  not  avail  for  his  honor.  A  soldier's  honor 
was  something  made  much  of  in  these  parts;  it 
pegged  higher  than  the  affairs  of  the  flesh. 

He  had  not  been  able  to  see  Miss  Searles,  and  he 
wondered  what  she  would  feel,  or  think,  or  say.  He 
was  a  thief  when  he  remembered  the  stolen  kisses, 
and  he  dared  not  go  to  the  Searleses'  home  to  inquire 
after  her.  All  this  diffidence  the  pubUc  put  down  to 
apathy ;  he  had  done  his  duty,  so  why  further  con- 
cern himself.? 

After  supper  he  strolled  along  the  officers'  row, 
desperately  forlorn,  but  hoping  and  yearning,  barely 
nodding  his  head  to  passers-by. 

Major  Searles  approached  him  with  the  nervous 
stride  habitual  to  a  soldier,  and  held  out  his  hand, 
saying  bluffly :  **  Of  course,  I  can't  thank  you  enough 
for  your  attention  to  my  daughter.  Ermine.  But  for 
your  fortunate  presence  there  at  the  time  of  the  acci- 


220  JOHN   ERMINE 

dent,  things  might  have  been  bad ;  how  bad  I  fear  to 
contemplate.  Come  to  my  quarters,  my  boy,  and 
allow  my  daughter  to  thank  you.  She  is  quite  recov- 
ered. She  is  sitting  out-of-doors.  She  hasn't  been 
abroad  much.  Such  a  fall  would  have  killed  an 
older  woman." 

Together  they  made  their  way  to  the  house,  and 
Ermine  passed  under  the  ramada  with  his  hat  off. 
Mrs.  Searles  shook  his  hand  and  said  many  motherly 
things  due  on  such  occasions. 

"  Please  forgive  me  if  I  do  not  rise ;  it  is  the  doc- 
tor's orders,  you  know."  And  Miss  Searles  extended 
her  hand,  which  the  scout  reverently  took.  To  have 
seen  him  one  would  have  fancied  that,  after  all,  man- 
ners must  have  been  made  before  men ;  which  idea 
is,  of  course,  absurd. 

In  response  to  their  inquiries,  he  retold  the  story 
of  the  accident  and  of  his  ministrations  and  per- 
plexities. He  did  not  embellish,  but  left  out  very 
important  details,  wondering  the  while  if  they  were 
dead  to  all  but  his  memory. 

"  She  should  not  ride  so  poor  a  horse,"  ventured 
Ermine. 

"  She  should  not  have  been  left  unattended."  And 
this  severity  was  directed  at  Major  Searles  by  his 
wife,  to  which  he  feebly  pleaded  vain  extenuations, 
without  hope  of  their  acceptance. 

"  No,  no,  my  dear ;  you  were  always  a  careless 
person;  one  is  never  safe  to  place  dependence  on 
you  in  minor  matters.     I  declare,  all  men  are  alike 


A   PROPOSAL  221 

—  leastwise  soldiers  are.  A  blanket  and  a  haver- 
sack, and  the  world  may  wag  at  will,  so  far  as  they 
concern  themselves."  Rising,  she  adjusted  her  hat, 
saying :  "  I  must  run  down  to  Mrs.  Taylor's  for  a 
minute.  Her  baby  is  very  ill,  and  she  has  sent  for 
me.     You  will  stay  here.  Major,"  and  she  swept  out. 

"When  do  you  depart  for  your  hunting  with  Mr. 
Harding,  Ermine.?"  asked  Searles. 

"  I  must  go  soon.  He  left  camp  three  days  ago, 
and  I  have  promised  to  follow." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be  delighted  to  hunt. 
I  know  I  should  if  I  were  a  man,"  cheerfully  re- 
marked the  young  woman. 

"I  have  always  hunted.  Miss  Searles.  I  think  I 
should  like  to  do  something  else." 

"What,  pray.?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  something  with  a  white  shirt 
in  it." 

"  Isn't  that  foolish  ?  There  is  no  more  fun  in  a 
white  shirt  than  there  is  in  a  buckskin  one,  and  there 
is  no  fun  in  either  when  it  rains,  I  am  told." 

A  passing  officer  appealed  to  the  Major  to  come 
out ;  he  was  needed,  together  with  other  requests  to 
follow,  with  reasons  why  haste  was  important. 

"  All  right,  I  will  be  back  in  a  moment,  daughter." 
And  the  officer  took  himself  off  in  complete  disobedi- 
ence of  his  wife's  orders. 

"  Don't  be  gone  long,  father ;  there  is  no  one  here 
but  Mary  and  the  striker.  You  know  I  cannot  de- 
pend on  them." 


222  JOHN    ERMINE  j 

"You  keep  the  wolves  off,  Ermine;  I  won't  be 
gone  a  minute."  And  Ermine  found  himself  alone 
again  with  Katherine. 

This  time  she  was  not  pale  unto  death,  but  warm 
and  tingling.  Her  lover's  hands  and  feet  took  better 
care  of  themselves  on  a  horse  than  in  a  chair,  but  the 
gloom  under  the  porch  at  least  stayed  some  of  the 
embarrassment  which  her  eyes  occasioned  him.  In- 
deed, it  is  well  known  that  lovers  prefer  night  attacks, 
and  despite  the  law  and  the  prophets,  they  manage 
better  without  an  audience. 

She  gained  a  particularly  entrancing  attitude  in 
her  chair  by  a  pussy-cat  wiggle  which  let  the  point 
of  her  very  small  foot  out  of  concealing  draperies. 
One  hand  hung  limply  toward  Ermine  over  the  arm 
of  the  chair,  and  it  seemed  to  scream  out  to  him  to 
take  hold  of  it. 

"  And  when  do  you  go,  Mr.  Ermine .? " 

This  seemed  safe,  and  along  the  lines  of  his  self- 
interest. 

"  I  go  to-morrow ;  I  have  given  my  word." 

"  Very  naturally  there  can  be  nothing  to  delay  you 
here,"  she  continued;  "the  fighting  is  over,  I  hear." 

"  There  is  something  in  the  world  beside  fighting." 

"  Yes  ? "  she  evaded. 

**Yes,  you  detain  me." 

"  I !  "  and  the  little  foot  went  back  to  its  nest ;  the 
extended  hand  rose  in  protest.  "  I  detain  you !  My 
dear  Mr.  Ermine,  I  do  not  understand  how  I  detain 
you ;  really,  I  am  quite  recovered  from  my  fall." 


A  PROPOSAL  223 

**  You  may  have  got  well,  Miss  Searles,  but  I  am 
not.     Do  you  remember  ? " 

"  Remember  —  remember —  do  I  remember  ?  What 
should  I  remember  ?  I  am  told  you  were  very  good 
to  me,  but  I  was  laboring  under  such  a  shock  at  the 
time  that  you  cannot  expect  much  of  my  memory." 

*'  I  was  but  little  better  off." 

"  And  were  you  injured  also }" 

"  Yes,  so  bad  that  I  shall  never  get  well  unless  you 
come  to  my  rescue." 

*'  I  come  to  your  rescue !  What  can  I  do .? "  Her 
sword  waved  in  tierce  and  seconde. 

"  Be  my  wife ;  come,  girl,  be  my  wife." 

He  had  beaten  down  her  guard ;  the  whole  mass 
was  in  the  fire.  The  dam  had  broken ;  he  led  his 
forlorn  hope  into  the  breach.  "Come,  Katherine, 
say  you  will  marry  me ;  say  it  and  save  me." 

"  Oh,"  she  almost  screamed,  "  I  can't  do  that ; 
why,  my  mother  would  never  consent  to  it,"  she 
appealed  in  bewilderment. 

He  had  risen  and  taken  a  step  forward.  "  What 
has  your  mother  to  say  ?  Say  you  will  be  my  wife, 
Katherine." 

"Careful,  careful,  Mr.  Ermine;  restrain  yourself, 
or  I  shall  call  a  servant.  No,  no,  I  cannot  marry 
you.  Why,  what  should  we  do  if  I  did }  We  should 
have  to  live  in  the  mule  corral." 

"  No,  come  to  the  mountains  with  me.  I  will  make 
you  a  good  camp." 

She  almost  laughed  aloud  at  this.     "  But  I  should 


224  JOHN   ERMINE 

make  a  poor  squaw.  I  fear  you  would  have  many 
quarrels  with  your  dinner.  Besides,  my  father  would 
not  let  me  marry  you.  I  like  you,  and  you  have 
been  very  good  to  me,  but  I  had  no  idea  we  had 
gotten  so  far  as  this.  Don't  you  think  you  Western 
men  cover  the  ground  a  little  too  fast  ? " 

Ermine  drew  back.     "  Why  did  you  kiss  me  ?  " 

"I  didn't,"  she  snapped.  Her  manner  grew  cold 
and  strange  to  him.  He  had  never  seen  this  mood 
before.  It  chilled  him  not  a  little,  and  he  sat  down 
again  in  the  chair.  His  assault  had  been  repulsed. 
They  were  now  looking  straight  into  each  other's 
eyes.  Fear  had  departed  from  Ermine's  and  all 
graciousness  from  hers.  Divested  of  their  seductive 
flashes,  he  saw  the  eyes  of  his  photograph,  and 
slowly  reaching  into  the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  drew  out 
the  buckskin  bag  and  undid  it.  Turning  to  the 
straining  light,  he  gazed  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
"  It  is  you  !  " 

"I!— what  is  I.?" 

"Yes  !  it  is  you !"  and  he  handed  the  much-soiled 
photograph  labelled  "  Bogardus  "  to  her. 

She  regarded  it.  "Why,  how  on  earth  did  you 
come  by  this,  Mr.  John  Ermine  ? " 

"  Sak-a-war-te  sent  it  to  me  in  the  night,  and  he 
made  it  talk  to  me  and  he  made  me  swear  that  I 
would  seek  the  woman  until  I  found  her.  Then  she 
would  be  my  wife.  I  have  found  you  —  I  do  not 
know  —  my  head  is  burning  —  " 

She  scanned  the  photograph,  and  said  in  an  under- 


A  PROPOSAL  "  225 

tone :  "  Taken  last  year  in  New  York,  and  for  him ; 
yet  you  have  it  away  out  here  in  the  middle  of  this 
enormous  desert.  He  surely  would  not  give  it  away 
to  you.  I  do  not  understand."  And  she  questioned 
him  sharply  as  she  returned  the  card. 

"  Who  is  this  Sak-a-war-te  .'*  " 

"  He  is  God,"  said  the  scout. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  started  up.  The  little  miss  had  never 
heard  God  connected  with  affairs  of  this  sort.  An 
active  fear  of  the  fire  which  burned  this  extraordinary 
man's  head  began  to  oppress  her. 

"  It  is  very  strange.  What  has  your  god  got  to 
do  with  me,  —  with  my  —  oh,  you  are  joking,  Mr. 
Ermine,"  she  again  appealed,  a  shadow  of  her  old 
smile  appearing. 

"No,  no;  I  am  not  joking.  I  have  found  you. 
I  must  believe  what  the  spirits  say  to  me  when  they 
take  my  mind  from  me  and  give  it  to  you,"  returned 
the  excited  man. 

"  But  really  —  I  did  not  mean  to  take  your  mind. 
I  haven't  it  anywhere  about  me.  You  have  dreamed 
all  this." 

"Yes;  it  may  be  only  a  dream.  Miss  Searles,  but 
make  it  come  true ;  please  make  it  all  come  true.  I 
should  Uke  to  live  such  a  dream." 

"  Oh,  my  good  man,  I  cannot  make  the  dreams  of 
casual  people  come  true,  not  such  serious  dreams  as 
yours." 

"  You  say  you  would  have  to  live  in  the  corral  with 
mules.     Is  that  because  I  have  so  little  money  ?  " 
Q 


226  JOHN   ERMINE 

"  No,  it  is  not  money.  I  do  not  know  how  much 
you  have." 

"  I  have  often  taken  enough  gold  out  of  the  ground 
in  a  few  days  to  last  me  a  year." 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  that  is  not  the  only  thing  neces- 
sary." 

"  What  is  necessary,  then }  Tell  me  what  you 
want." 

"  There  would  have  to  be  a  great  deal  of  love,  you 
know.  That  is  why  any  one  marries.  I  have  been 
flattered  by  the  attentions  of  many  cavaliers  like 
yourself,  Mr.  Ermine,  but  I  could  not  marry  any  one 
of  them  unless  I  loved  him." 

"And  then  you  do  not  love  me,"  this  in  a  low, 
far-away  voice,  lopping  each  word  off  as  though  with 
an  axe. 

"  No,  I  do  not.  I  have  given  you  no  reason  to 
think  I  did.  I  like  you,  and  I  am  sorry  for  you,  now 
that  I  know  in  what  way  you  regard  me.  Sit  down 
again  and  let  me  tell  you."  She  crouched  herself  on 
the  edge  of  her  chair,  and  he  sat  in  his,  revolving  his 
big  hat  in  both  hands  between  his  knees.  He  was 
composed,  and  she  vaguely  felt  that  she  owed  him  a 
return  for  his  generous  acts  of  the  past.  She  had 
the  light  touch  of  mature  civilization  and  did  not 
desire  her  darts  to  be  deadly.  Now  that  one  had 
laid  this  simple  nature  low,  she  felt  a  womanly  im- 
pulse to  nurse  the  wound. 

"  Some  terrible  mistake  has  been  made.  Believe 
me,  I  am  truly  sorry  that  our  relationship  has  not 


A   PROPOSAL  227 

been  rightly  understood."  Here  she  paused  a  mo- 
ment to  take  a  long  breath  and  observe  the  effect  of 
her  words  on  the  one  who  had  so  easily  lost  his 
head.  "  No,  I  simply  admired  you,  Mr.  Ermine,  as  I 
do  many  of  the  brave  men  about  here.  I  was  not 
thinking  of  marrying  any  one.  As  for  living  in  the 
mule  corral,  I  was  only  joking  about  that.  There 
might  be  worse  places.  I  should  dearly  love  a  gold 
mine,  but  don't  you  understand  there  would  have  to 
be  something  else  —  I  should  have  to  give  you  some- 
thing before  we  thought  of  marrying." 

"I  see  it;  it  all  comes  to  me  now,"  he  labored. 
"You  would  have  to  give  me  something,  and  you 
won't  give  me  yourself.  Then  give  me  back  my 
mind  —  give  me  the  peace  which  I  always  had  until 
I  saw  you.  Can  you  do  that,  Miss  Searles.^*  Can 
you  make  John  Ermine  what  he  was  before  the 
steamboat  came  here,  and  let  him  mount  his  pony 
and  go  away.?" 

It  was  all  so  strange,  this  quiet  appeal,  that  she 
passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead  in  despair. 

"  If  you  will  not  make  my  dreams  come  true ;  if 
you  will  not  say  the  things  which  the  photograph 
does  ;  if  you  will  not  do  what  God  intends,  —  then  I 
must  take  my  body  away  from  here  and  leave  my 
shadow,  my  mind,  and  my  heart  to  be  kicked  about 
among  the  wagons  and  the  dogs.  And  I  know  now 
that  you  will  soon  forget  me.  Then  I  will  be  John 
Ermine,  riding  among  the  hills,  empty  as  an  old 
buffalo    carcass,    moving    without    life,    giving    no 


228  JOHN   ERMINE 

thought  to  the  sunshine,  not  feeUng  the  wind  nor 
caring  how  the  birds  fly  or  the  animals  run.  If  you 
will  not  marry  me  —  " 

**  Stop,  please  stop.  I  cannot  stand  this  sort  of 
thing,  my  dear  Mr.  Ermine.  There  are  other  young 
women  besides  myself.  Go  about  the  world,  back  in 
the  States ;  you  will  find  whole  oceans  of  them,  and 
without  flattery,  I  feel  you  will  soon  find  your  mind 
again." 

"You  have  my  mind.  You  have  all  the  mind  I 
ever  had."  And  his  voice  dropped  until  she  could 
distinguish  only  wild  gutturals.  He  was  talking  to 
himself  in  the  Indian  language. 

Springing  up  quickly,  she  flew  into  the  house,  out 
through  it  to  the  rear  steps,  where  she  fell  upon  the 
neck  of  Mary,  the  cook,  to  the  utter  consternation  of 
a  soldier,  who,  to  all  appearances,  was  there  with  a 
similar  ambition  so  to  do.  This  latter  worthy  flung 
himself  out  into  the  darkness.  The  cook  held  Kath- 
erine,  expecting  the  entire  Sioux  tribe  to  come  pour- 
ing through  the  front  door  on  the  instant,  and  at  this 
belated  interval  Mrs.  Searles  entered  her  own  porch. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Ermine,  where  is  Katherine,  and  where 
is  the  Major  ?  Why,  you  are  all  alone !  "  And  she 
came  up  standing. 

"  Yes,  I  am  all  alone,"  said  the  scout,  quietly,  rising 
from  the  chair  and  putting  on  his  sombrero.  Before 
she  could  comprehend,  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


MAN   TO   MAN 


[HE  Major  sauntered  in  shortly 
and  found  Mrs.  Searles  stand- 
ing   over     Katherine's    chair, 
trying  to  dry  her  tears 
and  gather  the  reasons 
for   her    grief.      Mary's 
Indians  not  having  ap- 
peared, she  stood  in  the 
doorway,  with  her  apron 
raised  to  a  sort  of  femi- 
nine''charge  bayonets." 
"  What  in  the  devil  is  the  circus  ? "  demanded  the 
father. 

"  It's  nothing,  father;  I  am  nervous,  that  is  all." 
"  Now,  Major  Searles,  I  want  you  to  sit  down  and 
keep  quiet.     You  will  drive  me  frantic.     Why  did 
you  run  away  when  I  clearly  told  you  to  stay  here } " 
Her  tones  were  dry  with  formality. 

Against  all  manner  of  people  and  happenings  the 
Major  joyfully  pitted  his  force  and  cunning.  His 
only  thought  in  a  great  crisis  was  his  six-shooter ;  but 
he  always  hesitated  before  anything  which  concerned 

229 


230  JOHN   ERMINE 

Mrs.  Searles  and  a  military  order.  These  impelled 
obedience  from  the  very  nature  of  things.  "  But 
what  has  happened  }     What  must  I  do  ? " 

"You  must  sit  down,"  said  his  wife;  and  he  sat 
down.  Affairs  of  this  kind  could  be  cleared  only  by 
women;  he  was  conscious  that  he  could  not  hurry 
matters. 

"  Now  what  has  happened,  Katherine  ?  Will  you 
tell  me  ?    Who  did  it .?  "  pleaded  the  mother. 

"  Why,  it  is  nothing,  only  that  horrible  scout  wanted 
to  marry  me.  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  so  ridicu- 
lous }  "  said  the  girl,  sitting  up  and  made  defiant  by 
the  idea. 

"  Did  he  do  anything  ?  "  and  the  Major  again  for- 
got his  orders  and  rose  truculently. 

"  Benjamin  ! "  said  Mrs.  Searles,  with  asperity ; 
and  he  again  subsided.  Like  most  soldiers  and  sailors, 
he  was  imperfectly  domesticated. 

"He  wanted  to  marry  you } "  she  continued  with 
questioning  insistence. 

"  Yes,  he  said  I  must  marry  him  ;  that  God  wanted 
me  to,  and  he  also  said  he  had  lost  his  mind  —  " 

"Well,  I  think  he  has,"  observed  the  mother, 
catching  this  idea,  which  was  at  least  tangible  to  her. 
"  Is  that  all,  Katherine  ? " 

"  Is  that  all,  mother }     Why,  isn't  that  enough } " 

"  I  mean,  he  simply  asked  you  to  marry  him  — 
properly — he  wasn't  insulting — insistent  beyond — " 

"  No,  he  did  nothing  else,  though  he  went  about  it 
in  a  most  alarming  way." 


MAN  TO   MAN  331 

"You  said,  No!" 

"  I  most  emphatically  did,  mother." 

"What  then?" 

"  Then  he  began  mumbling  Indian  and  scared  me 
nearly  to  death.     I  ran  to  Mary." 

"  Dade  an'  she  did,  mum ;  an'  I'm  afther  loosin' 
my  sinses  thinkin'  thim  rid-divils  what  do  be  ploughin' 
the  land  down  be  the  river  was  devastating  the  can- 
tonmint  for  to  pass  the  time.  An'  ets  only  some  bye 
afther  wantin'  to  marry  her  —  the  swate  thing." 

Mrs.  Searles  interposed,  "  Mary  ! "  and  the  domestic 
retired  to  the  sable  silences  of  the  rear  steps,  to  split 
a  joke  with  one  Private  O' Shane,  should  he  venture 
to  return. 

"  The  social  savagery  of  this  place  is  depressing. 
To  think  of  my  daughter  living  in  a  log-cabin,  cook- 
ing bear  meat  for  a  long-haired  wild  man.  In  the 
future,  Benjamin  Searles,  I  trust  you  will  not  feel 
called  upon  to  introduce  your  fantastic  acquaintances 
to  this  house.  You  can  sit  on  the  corral  fence  to  en- 
tertain them.  That  is  where  they  belong.  I  suppose 
next,  an  out-and-out  Indian  will  want  to  be  my  son- 
in-law." 

"  I  certainly  will  see  that  the  man  does  not  again 
obtrude  himself.  I  do  not  understand  his  nerve  in  this 
matter.  Lewis  thinks  the  boy's  ridgepole  is  crooked ; 
but  he  is  harmless  and  has  done  many  good  and  gal- 
lant deeds.  As  for  his  proposing,  I  simply  think  he 
doesn't  know  any  better.  For  my  part,  I  think  it  is 
about  time  that  the  engagement  to  Mr.  Butler  is 


232  JOHN   ERMINE 

announced ;  it  will  put  an  end  to  this  foolishness  all 
round,"  added  the  father.  "  I  am  going  out  to  see 
Lewis  about  this  fellow  now." 

"  Ben  Searles,  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  do  any- 
thing rash,"  pleaded  the  mother. 

"Of  course  not,  my  dear;  the  situation  doesn't 
call  for  any  temperature  beyond  blood-heat.  I  only 
want  to  put  a  cooling  lotion  on  the  base  of  that 
scout's  brain.     He  must  stop  this  dreaming  habit." 

Having  found  Lewis  at  his  quarters  and  seated 
himself,  the  Major  began,  "  Now,  Captain,  what 
do  you  think  of  this  Ermine  of  yours  —  is  he 
crazy .? " 

"Is  he  crazy ?     Why,  what  has  he  done  now ? " 

"  Well,  by  Gad,  he  came  to  my  house  this  evening, 
and  when  I  stepped  out  for  a  minute  he  proposed 
marriage  to  my  daughter  —  wanted  her  to  marry 
him !  Now,  how's  that  strike  you  ?  Is  it  just  gall, 
or  does  he  need  a  physician } " 

"  Well,    I   will   be    d d ;    proposed    marriage, 

hey !  Looks  like  he  ought  to  have  an  opiate,"  con- 
cluded Lewis.  "You  know,  now  that  I  think  of  it, 
I  have  a  little  mistrusted  him  before.  He  has  shown 
signs  of  liking  your  daughter,  but  I  never  regarded 
the  matter  seriously  —  didn't  ever  credit  him  with 
being  an  entire  fool.  The  boy's  queer,  Searles  — 
mighty  queer,  but  he  never  did  anything  wrong; 
in  fact,  he  is  a  pretty  good  boy  —  a  heap  different 
from  most  of  these  double-belted,  sage-bush  terrors. 
Then,  of  course,  he  was  born  and   raised  in  the 


MAN   TO   MAN  233 

wilderness,  and  there  is  a  whole  lot  of  things  he 
don't  savvy.  Probably  he  has  lost  his  head  over 
your  daughter  and  he  can't  see  why  he  hasn't  a 
chance.  I  will  send  for  him,  and  we  will  make  a 
big  talk,  and  I'll  send  him  away  to  Harding."  Turn- 
ing, the  Captain  yelled,  " Orderly !  Jones!  Oh,  Jones  ! " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  responded  Jones,  as  he  appeared  in  the 
doorway. 

"Go  find  the  scout  Ermine,  if  you  can,  and  tell 
him  to  report  to  me  immediately.  If  you  don't 
find  him  in  half  an  hour,  let  it  go  until  to-morrow  — 
understand  ? 

"  As  I  was  saying,  you  see.  Major,  if  this  thing 
wasn't  vinegar,  it  would  be  sugar.  When  I  think 
of  him  proposing  —  say,  I  have  to  laugh.  There  is 
one  thing  about  him  which  kept  me  guessing :  it  is 
the  Indian  reserve  of  the  fellow.  He  goes  round 
here  like  a  blue-moon,  and  if  you  should  hit  him 
over  the  head  with  an  axe,  I  don't  think  he  would 
bat  an  eye.  He  never  complains,  he  never  questions, 
and  when  you  are  right  up  against  it,  as  we  were  a 
half-dozen  times  last  winter,  he  is  Johnny-on-the-spot. 
So  you  see,  if  he  fell  in  love,  no  one  would  hear  the 
splash.  Now  that  he  is  in  love,  we  want  to  tighten 
the  curb  chain;  he  might  —  well,  he  might  take  it 
into  his  head  to  do  something,  and  that  something 
might  be  just  what  we  would  never  think  of." 

Thus  the  two  speculated  until  the  sandpaper  grat- 
ing of  Ermine's  moccasins  on  the  porch  warned 
them,  and  looking  up  they  beheld  the  scout,  standing 


234  JOHN   ERMINE 

with  his  rifle  in  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm.  This 
was  unusual  and  produced  several  seconds  of  very 
bad  silence.  Captain  Lewis  held  up  his  hand  in 
mockery  of  the  "  peace  sign,"  and  said :  **  I  see  you're 
fixed  for  war,  Ermine.  Sit  down  over  there.  I 
want  to  talk  to  you." 

The  scout  removed  his  hat  and  sat  down,  but  with 
the  ominous  rifle  in  place.  He  had  been  told  by  the 
orderly  whom  he  was  to  encounter ;  and  it  had  come 
over  him  that  wanting  to  marry  Katherine  Searles 
might  be  some  crime  against  the  white  man's  law. 
He  had  seen  very  natural  actions  of  men  punished 
under  those  laws  during  his  sojourn  in  camp. 

**  Ermine,  I  understand  that  during  the  temporary 
absence  of  her  father  this  evening,  you  asked  Miss 
Searles  to  marry  you." 

"I  did,  sir." 

"  Very  well.  Don't  you  think  you  took  an  unfair 
advantage  of  her  father's  absence  ? " 

**I  don't  know,  sir.  A  man  doesn't  speak  to  a 
woman  before  other  men,"  replied  Ermine,  dubiously. 

The  Captain  emitted  a  slight  cough,  for  the  blow 
had  staggered  him  a  little.  He  knew  the  law  of  con- 
vention, and  he  knew  the  customs  of  men ;  but  they 
did  not  separate  readily  in  his  mind. 

"  In  any  event,  Ermine,  the  young  lady  had 
given  you  no  encouragement  which  would  warrant 
you  in  going  to  the  length  of  proposing  marriage 
to  her." 

This  was  an  assertion  which  Ermine  did  not  care 


MAN   TO   MAN  235 

to  discuss.  His  views  would  not  coincide,  and  so  he 
fumbled  his  hat  and  made  no  reply. 

**  I  may  state  that  you  are  not  warranted  in  aspir- 
ing to  the  hand  of  Miss  Searles  for  many  reasons ; 
further,  that  she  distinctly  doesn't  want  attention  of 
any  kind  from  you.  To  this  I  will  add,  her  father 
and  mother  forbid  you  all  association  in  the  future  — 
do  you  understand  .'*  " 

This,  also,  failed  to  break  the  scout's  silence. 

"  And,"  interpolated  the  father,  "  I  may  add  that 
my  daughter  is  already  engaged  to  be  married  to 
Lieutenant  Butler,  which  will  end  the  matter." 

If  the  evening's  occurrences  had  set  the  nerves  of 
the  Searles  family  on  edge,  it  had  torn  the  scout's 
into  shreds  ;  but  he  managed  his  stoicism. 

"  Now,  my  boy,"  continued  Captain  Lewis,  with  a 
sense  of  benevolence,  "  we  do  not  mean  to  be  hard 
on  you.  We  all,  including  Miss  Searles,  feel  a  great 
pity  for  you  in  this  matter." 

"Pity  —  pity  —  what  is  pity.?"  saying  which  the 
boy's  eyes  took  on  an  unnatural  glow  and  he  rose  to 
his  feet.  Lewis  quickly  added,  "  I  mean  that  we  feel 
for  you." 

"  I  know  what  you  feel  for  me,  Captain  Lewis,  and 
Major  Searles,"  and  it  was  evident  that  Ermine  was 
aroused.  "  You  feel  that  I  am  an  uneducated  man, 
without  money,  and  that  I  do  not  wear  a  white  shirt  ; 
that  I  tuck  my  pants  in  my  leggings  and  that  I  sleep 
among  the  Indians.  I  know  you  think  I  am  a  dog. 
I  know  Miss  Searles  thinks  I  belong  in  the  corral 


236  JOHN   ERMINE 

with  the  mules ;  but,  by  G ,  you  did  not  think  I 

was  a  dog  when  the  Sioux  had  your  wagon-train  sur- 
rounded and  your  soldiers  buffaloed  ;  you  did  not  think 
I  was  a  dog  when  I  stood  beside  the  Colonel,  and 
neither  did  Sitting  Bull.  You  did  not  think  I  was  a 
dog  when  I  kept  you  all  from  freezing  to  death  last 
winter ;  but  here  among  the  huts  and  the  women  I 
am  a  dog.  I  tell  you  now  that  I  do  not  understand 
such  men  as  you  are.  You  have  two  hearts :  one  is 
red  and  the  other  is  blue ;  and  you  feel  with  the  one 
that  best  suits  you  at  the  time.  Your  blue  heart 
pities  me.  Me,  a  warrior  and  a  soldier !  Do  you  give 
pity  with  your  coffee  and  sow-belly  ?     Is  that  what 

you  feed  a  soldier  on  ?      Hum-m  —  G !  "     And 

the  scout  slapped  his  hat  on  his  head. 

"  Steady,  steady,  my  boy ;  don't  you  go  up  in 
the  air  on  us,"  said  Lewis,  persuasively.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  offend  you,  and  we  want  to  be  friends ; 
but  you  keep  your  feet  on  the  ground  and  don't  go 
raring  and  pitching,  or  we  may  forget  you." 

"Yes;  that  is  it,  —  forget  me;  you  may  forget 
me.  What's  more,  you  can  do  it  now.  I  am  going 
far  away,  so  that  your  eyes  will  not  remind  you." 

"  You  are  going  to  make  your  word  good  to  Mr. 
Harding,  are  you  not.'' "  asked  the  chief  of  scouts. 

"  What  good  is  a  dog's  word  ? "  came  the  bitter 
reply. 

The  Major  said  little,  but  remained  steadily  study- 
ing the  face  of  the  scout;  rising,  he  approached 
him  with  extended  hand.     "If  you  are  going  away, 


MAN   TO   MAN  237 

let  us  part  friends,  at  least.  Here  is  my  hand,  and 
I  shall  not  forget  you ;  I  shall  not  forget  your 
services  to  me  or  mine,  and  I  do  not  think  you  are  a 
dog.  When  you  calm  down  you  may  find  that  you 
have  been  unjust  to  Captain  Lewis  and  myself." 

The  scout  took  the  Major's  hand  mechanically, 
and  also  that  of  Lewis,  which  the  latter  offered  in 
turn,  saying :  — 

"  In  the  morning  I  will  see  that  you  get  your 
pay,  and  if  you  conclude  to  return,  I  will  find  you 
employment." 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  I  care  nothing  for  the  pay.  I 
did  not  come  here  for  money;  I  came  here  to 
help  you  fight  the  Sioux,  and  to  be  a  man  among 
white  men."  And  once  more  the  young  man  re- 
lapsed into  the  quiet  of  his  ordinary  discourse. 

"  You  certainly  have  shown  yourself  a  man  among 
men;  no  one  has  ever  questioned  that,"  said  the 
Major. 

"  Then  why  is  it  wrong  for  a  man  among  men  to 
want  your  daughter  to  be  his  wife  ?  " 

"It  is  not  wrong,  but  you  have  gone  about  the 
matter  wrong.  I  have  tried  to  make  it  plain  that 
her  hand  is  promised  to  Mr.  Butler." 

As  this  was  said,  two  horses  trotted  up  to  Cap- 
tain Lewis's  quarters.  A  man  dismounted,  gave 
his  horse  to  the  other,  and  Butler  himself  strode 
heavily  into  the  room.  He  was  quite  gray  with 
dust,  with  a  soiled  handkerchief  about  his  neck, 
unshaven,  booted,  and  armed. 


238  JOHN   ERMINE 

"Hello,  Major!  Hello,  Lewis!  I'm  just  in  with 
my  troop,  and  if  you  will  pardon  me,  I  will  have  a 
word  with  Mr.  Ermine  here."  His  manner  was 
strained,  and  knowing  the  situation  as  they  all  did, 
the  two  older  officers  were  alarmed. 

"  Hold  up  there,  Butler ;  never  mind  your  word  to- 
night; wait  until  morning." 

Butler  paid  no  attention,  but  addressed  the  scout 
with  icy  directness.  "May  I  ask,  Mr.  Ermine,  if 
you  have  in  your  possession  a  photograph  of  Miss 
Searles.?" 

"  I  have." 

"  Have  you  it  about  your  person  at  present  ? " 

"  I  have,  sir." 

"Then,  Mr.  Ermine,  I  have  the  word  of  Miss 
Searles  for  it,  that  the  photograph  in  question  was 
one  she  had  taken,  of  which  there  is  only  one  copy 
in  the  world ;  and  which  was  given  to  me,  and  lost 
by  myself,  somewhere  on  the  road  between  here  and 
Fort  Ellis.  It  must  be  my  property.  If  you  will  let 
me  see  it,  I  can  soon  identify  it.  In  which  case  I 
demand  that  you  hand  it  over  to  me." 

"  Mr.  Butler,  you  will  only  get  that  photograph 
from  off  my  dead  body.  You  have  Miss  Searles ;  is 
not  that  enough  ? " 

"  I  will  then  take  it  by  force  from  you  !  "  A 
tremendous  bang  roared  around  the  room,  and  the 
little  group  was  lost  in  smoke. 

Butler  turned  half  round,  his  six-shooter  going 
against  the  far  wall  with  a  crash.     He  continued  to 


MAN   TO   MAN  241 

revolve  until  caught  in  the  Major's  arms.  Lewis 
sprang  to  his  desk,  where  his  pistol  lay,  and  as  he 
turned,  the  smoke  lifted,  revealing  Butler  lying 
against  the  Major's  chest,  wildly  waving  his  left 
arm  and  muttering  savagely  between  short  breaths. 
Ermine  was  gone. 

"  Fire  on  that  man  ! "  yelled  Lewis  to  the  orderly 
outside,  taking  one  shot  himself  at  the  fleeing  figure 
of  the  scout. 

The  soldier  jerked  his  carbine  and  thrashed  about 
the  breech-block  with  a  cartridge.  "  I  can't  see  him. 
Captain  !  "  he  shouted. 

"  Fire  at  him,  anyway  !  Fire,  I  tell  you  !  *'  And 
the  man  discharged  his  rifle  in  the  direction  in  which 
Ermine's  figure  had  disappeared. 

Simultaneously  with  the  shots,  the  garrison  bugles 
were  drawling  "  Taps,"  but  they  left  off  with  an  ex- 
piring pop.  The  lights  did  not  go  out  in  quarters, 
and  the  guard  turned  out  with  much  noise  of  shoe 
leather  and  rattle  of  guns.  This  body  soon  arrived, 
and  Lewis  spoke  from  the  porch  of  his  quarters. 

"The  scout.  Ermine,  has  just  shot  Lieutenant 
Butler  in  the  arm  !  He  ran  that  way  !  Chase  him  ! 
Go  quickly,  or  he  will  get  away.  Shoot  instantly 
if  he  resists;   and  he  will,  I  think." 

The  guard  shuffled  off  in  the  darkness  and  beat  up 
the  camp  to  no  purpose.  The  soldiers  stood  about, 
speculating  in  low  voices  and  gradually  quieting  as 
the  word  passed  about  on  the  uneasy  wings  of  gossip 
that  Ermine  had  shot  Butler  in  the  arm,  wounding 


242  JOHN   ERMINE 

him  badly,  and  that  the  scout  had  gone  into  the  earth 
or  up  in  the  air,  for  divil  the  hide  nor  hair  of  him 
could  the  guard  find. 

When  the  orderly  had  come  for  Ermine  and  told 
him  who  wanted  to  see  him,  the  scout  scented  trouble 
ahead.  According  to  the  immemorial  practices  of 
the  desert  at  such  times,  he  had  saddled  his  pony, 
tying  him  in  the  darkest  and  most  unlikely  place  he 
could  find,  which  was  between  two  six-mule  wagons 
outside  the  corral.  He  armed  himself  and  obeyed 
the  summons,  but  he  intended  never  to  let  a  hand  be 
placed  on  his  shoulder;  and  he  chose  death  rather 
than  the  military  court  which  sat  so  gravely  around 
the  long  table  at  headquarters.  He  fully  expected 
to  depart  for  the  mountains  on  the  morrow,  but  his 
hand  was  forced.  The  quick  episode  of  Butler,  end- 
ing in  the  shot  and  his  flight,  had  precipitated  mat- 
ters. Shortly  he  found  himself  seated  on  his  horse 
between  the  wagons,  while  the  denizens  of  the  can- 
tonments swarmed  around.  A  group  searched  the 
corral  with  lanterns,  and  he  heard  one  soldier  tell 
another  what  had  happened,  with  the  additional  in- 
formation that  Butler  was  not  seriously  injured. 
Armed  men  passed  close  to  him,  and  he  knew  that 
discovery  meant  probable  death,  because  he  would 
not  hold  up  his  hands.  Despite  the  deadly  danger 
which  encompassed  him,  he  found  time  for  disap- 
pointment in  the  news  that  Butler  was  only  wounded. 
Even  now  he  would  go  to  his  enemy  and  make  more 
sure,  but  that  enemy  was  in  the  hospital  surrounded 


MAN   TO   MAN  243 

by  many  friends.  She,  too,  ,was  probably  there, 
weeping  and  hating  the  responsible  one,  —  a  fugitive 
criminal  driven  into  the  night.  The  silken  robes  of 
self-respect  had  been  torn  from  Ermine,  and  he  stood 
naked,  without  the  law,  unloved  by  women,  and  with 
the  hand  of  all  men  turned  against  him.  The 
brotherhood  of  the  white  kind,  which  had  promised 
him  so  much,  had  ended  by  steaHng  the  heart  and 
mind  of  the  poor  mountain  boy,  and  now  it  wanted 
his  body  to  work  its  cold  will  on  ;  but  it  could  have 
that  only  dead.  This  he  knew  as  he  loosed  five  car- 
tridges, putting  them  between  his  teeth  and  clutching 
his  loaded  rifle.  Would  the  search  never  cease } 
The  lanterns  glided  hither  and  yon ;  every  garrison 
cur  ran  yelping ;  the  dull  shuffling  of  feet  was  com- 
ing directly  to  the  wagons  which  stood  apart  from 
other  objects,  and  a  dog  ran  under  the  wagon.  With 
their  eyes  on  the  ground,  an  officer  and  two  men 
towered  above  the  light  of  a  lantern.  They  were  com- 
ing directly  to  the  wagons.  He  kicked  the  pony  and 
galloped  softly  out.     Instantly  the  men  began  calling, 

"Halt!  halt!  G d you,  halt!"  but  the  ghostly 

pony  only  answered  feebly  the  lantern  light.  "  Bang! 
bang !  bang !  "  came  the  shots,  which  **  zee-weeped  " 
about  his  ears.  He  doubled  quickly  in  the  dark  and 
trotted  to  the  edge  of  the  camp,  which  buzzed  loudly 
behind  him.  He  knew  he  must  pass  the  sentries,  but 
he  took  the  chance.  His  apprehensions  were  quickly 
answered.  "Halt!" — the  man  was  very  near,  but 
it  was  very  dark.     "  Bang  I  "  —  it  missed,  and  he  was 


244  JOHN   ERMINE 

away.  He  stopped  shortly,  dismounted,  and  ran  his 
hand  completely  over  the  body  of  the  pony ;  it  was 
dry.  "  Good ! "  For  a  half-hour  he  walked  over  the 
herd-grounds,  crossing,  circling,  and  stopping;  then 
back  as  near  to  the  post  as  he  dared.  At  last  he 
turned  and  rode  away.  He  was  thoroughly  familiar 
with  the  vicinity  of  the  camp,  and  had  no  trouble  so 
long  as  the  post  lights  guided  him. 

The  mountain  boy  had  brought  little  to  the  soldier 
camp  but  the  qualities  of  mind  which  distinguished 
his  remote  ancestors  of  the  north  of  Europe,  who 
came  out  of  the  dark  forests  clad  in  skins,  and  bear- 
ing the  first  and  final  law  of  man,  a  naked  sword  on 
a  knotted  arm.  An  interval  of  many  centuries  inter- 
vened between  him  and  his  fellows ;  all  the  race  had 
evolved,  all  the  laws  which  they  had  made  for  the 
government  of  society,  all  the  subtle  customs  which 
experience  had  decreed  should  circumscribe  asso- 
ciates, were  to  him  but  the  hermit's  gossip  in  idle 
hours  at  the  cabin.  The  bar  sinister  was  on  his 
shield ;  his  credentials  were  the  advice  of  an  unreal 
person  to  fight  in  common  with  the  whites.  He 
came  clad  in  skins  on  a  naked  horse,  and  could 
barely  understand  English  when  it  was  in  the  last 
adulteration ;  and  still  he  had  made  his  way  without 
stumbling  until  the  fatal  evening.  Now  he  was  flee- 
ing for  life  because  he  had  done  two  of  the  most 
natural  things  which  a  man  can  do. 

"  Good-by,  good-by,  white  men,  and  good-by, 
white  woman ;  the  frost  is  in  your  hearts,  and  your 


MAN   TO   MAN  245 

blood  runs  like  the  melting  snow  from  the  hills. 
When  you  smile,  you  only  skin  your  fangs ;  and  when 
you  laugh,  your  eyes  do  not  laugh  with  you.  You 
say  good  words  which  mean  nothing.  You  stroke  a 
man's  back  as  a  boy  does  a  dog's,  and  kick  him  later 
as  a  boy  does.  You,  woman,  you  who  pick  men's 
hearts  and  eat  them  as  a  squaw  does  wild  plums,  I 
want  no  more  of  you.  You,  Butler,  I  wish  were  out 
here  in  the  dark  with  me ;  one  of  us  would  never  see 
the  sun  rise.  You  would  force  me ! "  and  the  scout 
vented  himself  in  a  hollow  laugh  which  was  chill  with 
murder. 

The  lights  were  lost  behind  the  rise  of  the  land,  and 
the  pony  trotted  along.  No  horse  or  man  not  raised 
on  the  buffalo  range  could  travel  in  that  darkness ; 
but  both  of  them  made  steady  progress. 

"  Those  Indians  will  have  to  crawl  on  their  knees 
a  whole  day  to  pick  up  my  pony  tracks  on  the 
herd  ground.  The  Crows  will  never  try  to  follow 
me ;  the  Shoshone  may  when  the  white  men  offer  a 
reward.  That  fool  of  a  boy  may  see  his  chance  to 
even  up  the  insult  which  I  gave  before  the  woman. 
He  can  shake  her  hand  now  for  all  I  would  do.  I 
will  ride  for  two  hours  before  the  sun  comes,  and 
then  let  the  pony  feed." 

Patting  his  horse's  neck,  he  added :  "  And  then,  my 
boy,  we  will  blind  our  trail  in  some  creek.  I  will  rub 
the  medicine  on  your  heels,  you  shall  gallop  until 
dark,  and  no  horse  in  that  camp  will  get  near  enough 
to  spoil  my  sleep." 


?46  JOHN   ERMINE 

Keeping  along  the  river  flats,  floundering  occasion- 
ally and  dismounting  to  lead  through  the  dry  washes, 
he  kept  steadily  on,  impelled  by  the  fear  that  the 
Indian  scouts  and'cavalry  might  not  stop  for  his  trail, 
but  deploy  out  at  daybreak,  and  ride  fast  to  the  west, 
in  the  hopes  that  he  had  not  yet  made  a  long  start  in 
the  darkness.  There  was  only  the  danger  that  his 
horse  might  lame  himself  in  the  night ;  but  then  he 
could  go  back  in  the  hills  and  make  a  skulk  on  foot. 
Even  to  be  brought  to  bay  had  no  great  terror; 
Ermine  held  his  life  lightly  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 

He  mused  as  he  rode :  "They  took  my  hair  out  of 
the  braids  and  let  it  flow  in  the  wind ;  then  they  said 
I  was  a  white  man.  I  may  be  one ;  but  I  wish  now  I 
had  forgotten  my  color  and  I  would  not  be  so  empty- 
handed  this  night.  If  I  had  followed  my  Indian 
heart,  I  could  have  stolen  that  girl  out  from  under  the 
noses  of  those  soldiers,  and  I  may  do  it  yet.  When 
she  was  riding,  I  could  have  taken  her  away  from 
the  hunting-party,  rawhided  her  on  to  her  horse,  and 
left  no  more  sign  than  a  bird  behind  us ;  but  when 
she  looked  at  me,  my  blood  turned  to  water.  O 
Sak-a-war-te,  why  did  you  not  take  the  snake's  gaze 
out  of  her  eyes,  and  not  let  poor  Ermine  sit  Uke  a 
gopher  to  be  swallowed.?  God,  God,  have  you  de- 
serted me  ? " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FLIGHT 

RMINE  under- 
stood the"  talk- 
ingwire," — the 
telegraph  had  been 
made  plain  to  him, 
—  and  he  knew  the 
soldiers  were  stretching  one  into  the  west.  He 
sheered  away  from  the  white  man's  medicine,  going 
up  a  creek  where  only  the  silent  waters  swirling 
about  his  horse's  legs  could  know  the  story  of  his 
ride,  which  secret  they  would  carry  to  the  eternal 
sea. 

The  gallant  pony's  blood  was  rich  from  the  grain- 
sacks  ;  he  had  carried  a  rider  in  the  strain  of  many 
war-trails,  and  his  heart  had  not  yet  failed.  In  the 
prime  of  life,  he  was  now  asked  to  do  the  long,  quick 
distance  that  should  lose  the  white  man ;  those 
mighty  people  who  bought  the  help  of  mercenary 
men ;  whose  inexhaustible  food  came  in  the  everlast- 
ing wagons;  and  who  spoke  to  each  other  twenty 
sleeps  apart.  His  rider  had  violated  their  laws,  and 
they  would  have  him.     Only  the  pony  could  save. 

247 


248  JOHN   ERMINE 

Having  walked  the  bed  of  the  creek  as  far  as  he 
deemed  necessary,  Ermine  backed  his  pony  out  of 
the  stream  into  some  low  bushes,  where  he  turned 
him  about  and  rode  away.  All  day  over  the  yellow 
plains  and  through  the  defiles  of  the  hills  loped  the 
fugitive.  Once  having  seen  buffalo  coming  in  his 
direction,  he  travelled  for  miles  along  a  buffalo  path 
which  he  judged  they  would  follow.  If  by  fortune 
they  did,  he  knew  it  would  make  the  scouts  who  came 
after  rub  their  eyes  and  smoke  many  pipes  in  em- 
barrassment. Not  entirely  satisfied  with  his  precau- 
tions, —  for  he  thought  the  Indians  would  cast  ahead 
when  checked, — he  continued  to  urge  the  pony  steadily 
forward.  The  long  miles  which  lay  before  his  pur- 
suers would  make  their  hearts  weak  and  their  ponies' 
forelegs  wobble. 

He  reflected  that  since  he  was  indeed  going  to  join 
Mr.  Harding's  party  at  the  secret  place  in  Gap-full- 
of-arrow-holes,^  why  would  not  Lewis's  scouts  follow 
the  easy  trail  made  by  their  ponies  and  trust  to  find- 
ing him  with  them  ;  and  again,  would  the  Englishman 
want  his  company  under  his  altered  status  ?  This  he 
answered  by  saying  that  no  horse  in  the  cantonment 
could  eat  up  the  ground  with  his  war-pony ;  and  as 
for  the  Englishman,  he  could  not  know  of  the  late 
tragedy  unless  the  accused  chose  to  tell  him.  What 
of  his  word  ?  Why  was  he  keeping  it  ?  With  a  quick 
bullet  from  his  rifle  had  gone  his  honor,  along  with 
other  things  more  material.     Still,  the  Gap  lay  in  his 

J  IVyor  Gap. 


FLIGHT  249 

way,  so  he  could  stop  without  inconvenience,  at  least 
long  enough  for  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some  tobacco. 
The  suddenness  of  his  departure  had  left  him  no 
time  to  gather  the  most  simple  necessities,  and  he 
was  living  by  his  gun.  Only  once  did  he  see  Indians 
far  away  in  the  shimmer  of  the  plains.  He  had 
dropped  into  the  dry  washes  and  sneaked  away. 
They  might  be  Crows,  but  the  arrows  of  doubt  made 
sad  surgery  in  his  poor  brain  ;  the  spell  of  the  white 
man's  vengeance  was  over  him.  Their  arms  were 
long,  their  purses  heavy ;  they  could  turn  the  world 
against  him.  From  their  strong  log-towns  they 
would  conjure  his  undoing  by  the  devious  methods 
which  his  experience  with  them  had  taught  him  to 
dread.  The  strain  of  his  thoughts  made  his  head 
ache  as  he  cast  up  the  events  which  had  forced  him 
to  this  wolfing  through  the  lonely  desert.  He  had 
wanted  to  marry  a  pretty  girl  whose  eyes  had  chal- 
lenged him  to  come  on,  and  when  he  had  ventured 
them,  like  a  mountain  storm  the  whole  cantonment 
rattled  about  his  head  and  shot  its  bolts  to  kill.  As 
the  girl  had  fled  his  presence  at  the  mere  extension 
of  his  hand,  in  swift  response  to  her  emotions  the 
whole  combination  of  white  humanity  was  hard  on 
the  heels  of  his  flying  pony. 

****** 

From  the  summit  of  the  red  cliffs  Ermine  looked 

down  into  the  secret  valley  of  his  quest,  and  sitting 

there  beside  a  huge  boulder  he  studied  the  rendezvous. 

There  were  Ramon's  pack-ponies  —  he  remembered 


250  JOHN   ERMINE 

them  all.  There  curled  the  smoke  from  the  tangle 
of  brushwood  in  the  bottom,  and  finally  Wolf- Voice 
and  Ramon  came  out  to  gather  in  the  horses  for  the 
night.  He  rode  down  toward  them.  Their  quick  ears 
caught  the  sound  of  the  rattle  of  the  stones  loosened 
by  his  mount,  and  they  stopped.  He  waved  his  hat, 
and  they  recognized  him.  He  came  up  and  dis- 
mounted from  his  drooping  horse,  stiff-hided  with 
lather  and  dust,  hollow-flanked,  and  with  his  belly 
drawn  up  as  tight  as  the  head  of  a  tom-tom. 

"  Are  you  alone  in  the  camp  .?  Has  no  one  been 
here  > " 

"  No ;  what  for  waas  any  one  been  here }  "  asked 
and  answered  the  half-breed.  **  De  King  George 
Man,^  she  waas  set  by  dose  fire  an'  waas  ask  me 
'bout  once  a  minit  when  waas  Ermine  come." 

The  men  drove  the  horses  in  while  Ermine  made 
his  way  through  the  brush  to  the  camp-fire. 

"  Aha !  Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Ermine.  Gad !  but 
you  must  have  put  your  horse  through.  He  is  barely 
holding  together  in  the  middle.  Picket  him  out,  and 
we  will  soon  have  some  coffee  going." 

Ermine  did  as  directed  and  was  soon  squatting 
before  the  fire  with  his  cup  and  plate.  To  the 
hail  of  questions  he  made  brief  response,  which 
Harding  attributed  to  fatigue  and  the  inclination  of 
these  half-wild  men  not  to  mix  discourse  with  the 
more  serious  matter  of  eating. 

"  How  did   you  leave  every  one  at  the  camp  ? " 

1  Any  person  who  belonged  to  the  Queen. 


FLIGHT  251 

Ermine  borrowed  a  pipe  and  interspersed  his 
answers  with  puffs. 

"Left  them  in  the  night  —  and  they  were  all 
sitting  up  to  see  me  off.  My  pony  is  weak,  Mr. 
Harding.  Will  you  give  me  a  fresh  one  in  the  morn- 
ing.? We  ought  to  start  before  daylight  and  make 
a  long  day  of  it." 

"  My  dear  man,  before  daylight  ?  Are  we  in  such 
haste .?    It  seems  that  we  have  time  enough  before  us." 

"This  is  a  bad  country  here.  Indians  of  all 
tribes  are  coming  and  going.  We  are  better  off 
back  in  the  range.  In  two  or  three  sleeps  we  will 
be  where  we  can  lie  on  the  robe,  but  not  here;" 
saying  which.  Ermine  rolled  up  in  his  saddle  blanket, 
and  perforce  the  others  did  likewise,  in  view  of  the 
short  hours  in  store. 

The  last  rasping,  straining  pack-rope  had  been 
laid  while  yet  the  ghostly  light  played  softly  with 
the  obscurity  of  the  morning.  The  ponies  were 
forced  forward,  crashing  through  the  bushes,  floun- 
dering in  the  creek,  cheered  on  by  hoarse  oaths,  all 
strange  to  the  ear  of  Harding.  The  sedate  progres- 
sion of  other  days  was  changed  to  a  fox-trot  —  riding- 
whips  and  trail-ropes  slapping  about  the  close-hugged 
tails  of  the  horses. 

Harding  congratulated  himself  on  the  unexpected 
energy  of  his  guide;  it  would  produce  results  later 
when  wanted  in  the  hunting.  The  ponies  strung 
out  ahead  to  escape  the  persecution  of  the  lash,  but 
Wolf -Voice  saw  something  new  in  it  all,  and  as  he 


/ 


252  JOHN   ERMINE 

rode,  his  fierce  little  eyes  gleamed  steadily  on  Ermine. 
The  half-breed  knew  the  value  of  time  when  he  was 
pushing  the  horses  of  the  enemy  away  from  their 
lodges,  but  these  horses  had  no  other  masters.  He 
turned  his  pony  alongside  of  Ermine's. 

"  Say,  John,  what  for  you  waas  keep  look  behin*  ? 
Who  you  'fraid  foliar  dese  pony }  Ain't  dose 
Canada-man  pay  for  dese  pony  —  sacre,  what  you 
was  do  back  de  camp  dare.''  De  Sioux,  she  broke 
hout  ? "  And  the  half-breed's  mischievous  eye  settled 
well  on  his  confrere. 

"Well,  I  did  that  back  there  which  will  make 
the  high  hills  safer  for  me  than  any  other  place. 
Don't  say  anything  to  Mr.  Harding  until  I  feel  safe. 
I  want  to  think." 

"  You  waas  shoot  some  one,  mabeso  ? " 

"  Yes  —  that Butler.     He  said  he  would 

force  me  to  give  up  the  paper  we  found  in  the  moon- 
light on  the  soldier  trail  down  the  Yellowstone  a  year 
ago.     He  pulled  his  pistol,  and  I  shot  him." 

"You  kiell  heem  —  hey.'*" 

"  No,  caught  him  in  the  arm,  but  it  will  not  kill 
him.  I  may  go  back  and  do  that  —  when  the 
soldiers  forget  a  little." 

"  Den  you  waas  run  away  —  hey .?  '* 

"Yes;  I  made  the  grass  smoke  from  Tongue 
River  to  here.  I  don't  think  they  can  follow  me, 
but  they  may  follow  this  party.  That's  why  I  look 
behind,  Wolf -Voice,  and  that's  why  I  want  you  to 
look  behind." 


FLIGHT  253 

"What  for  you  waas  come  to  de  King  George 
Man,  anyhow  ?  " 

"I  wanted  coffee  and  tobacco  and  a  fresh  pony 
and  more  cartridges,  and  it  will  be  many  moons 
before  John  Ermine  will  dare  look  in  a  trader's 
store.  If  the  white  men  come,  I  will  soon  leave 
you;  and  if  I  do,  you  must  stay  and  guide  Mr. 
Harding.  He  is  a  good  man  and  does  what  is 
right  by  us." 

"Ah!"  hissed  the  half-breed,  "old  Broken-Shoe 
and  White-Robe,  she  ain'  let  dose  Engun  foliar  you. 
You  spose  dey  let  dose  Crow  tak  de  ack-kisr-attah  ^  to 
Crooked-Bear's  boy.?  Humph,  dey  'fraid  of  hees 
medecin'." 

"Well,  they  will  pile  the  blankets  as  high  as 
a  horse's  back,  and  say  to  the  Shoshone,  *Go  get 
the  yellow-hair,  and  these  are  your  blankets.'  What 
then .? " 

"Ugh!    ugh!  —  a-nah,"  grunted    the    half-breed; 

"de Shoshone,  we  will  leek  de  pony  — 

come  —  come!  " 

The  energy  of  the  march,  the  whacking  ropes,  and 
scampering  horses  passed  from  satisfaction  to  down- 
right distress  in  Mr.  Harding's  mind.  He  pleaded 
for  more  deliberation,  but  it  went  unheeded.  The 
sun  had  gone  behind  the  hard  blue  of  the  main  range 
before  they  camped,  and  the  good  nature  of  the 
Englishman  departed  with  it. 

"Why  is  it  necessary  to  break  our  cattle  down 
1  Soldiers. 


254  JOHN   ERMINE 

by  this  tremendous  scampering  ?     It  does  not  appeal 
to  my  sense  of  the  situation." 

**  Wael,  meester,  wan  more  sun  we  waas  en  de  hiell 
—  den  we  have  long  smoke ;  all  you  waas  do  waas 
sit  down  smoke  your  pipe  —  get  up  —  kiell  dose 
grizzly  bear  —  den  sit  down  some  more." 


But  this  observation  of  the  half-breed's  was  offset 
by  Ramon,  who  was  cleaning  a  frying-pan  with  a 
piece  of  bread,  and  screwing  his  eyes  into  those 
of  Wolf-Voice.  The  matter  was  not  clear  to  him. 
"What  good  can  come  of  running  the  legs  off  the 
ponies.-*    Why  can't  we  sit  down  here  and  smoke?" 

"  You  waas  trader  —  you  waas  spend  all  de  morn- 
ing pack  de  pony  —  spend  all  the  afternoon  unpack 


FLIGHT  255 

heem  —  a  man  see  your  night  fire  from  stan  where 
you  waas  cook  your  breakfast  —  bah!"  returned 
Wolf-Voice. 

This  exasperated  Ramon,  who  vociferated,  "  When 
I  see  men  run  the  pony  dat  way,  I  was  wander  why 
dey  run  dem."  Wolf -Voice  betook  himself  to  that 
ominous  silence  which,  with  Indians,  follows  the 
knife. 

Ermine  was  lame  in  the  big  white  camp,  but  out 
here  in  the  desert  he  walked  ahead ;  so,  without  look- 
ing up,  he  removed  his  pipe,  and  said  in  his  usual 
unemotional  manner,  "  Shut  up !  "  The  command 
registered  Uke  a  gong. 

Wolf- Voice  sat  down  and  smoked.  When  men 
smoke  they  are  doing  nothing  worse  than  thinking. 
The  cook  ceased  doing  the  work  he  was  paid  for, 
and  also  smoked.  Every  one  else  smoked,  and  all 
watched  the  greatest  thinker  that  the  world  has  ever 
known  —  the  Fire. 

The  first  man  to  break  the  silence  was  the  English- 
man. Whether  in  a  frock  coat,  or  a  more  simple 
garment,  the  Englishman  has  for  the  last  few  cen- 
turies been  able  to  think  quicker,  larger,  and  more  to 
the  purpose  in  hours  of  bewilderment,  than  any  other 
kind  of  man.  He  understood  that  his  big  purpose 
was  lost  in  this  **  battle  of  the  kites  and  crows." 
The  oak  should  not  wither  because  one  bird  robbed 
another's  nest.  As  a  world-wide  sportsman  he  had 
seen  many  yellow  fellows  shine  their  lethal  weapons 
to  the  discomfiture  of  his  plans ;  and  he  knew  that  in 


256  JOHN   ERMINE 

Ermine  he  had  an  unterrified  adversary  to  deal  with. 
He  talked  kindly  from  behind  his  pipe.  "  Of  course, 
Ermine,  I  am  willing  to  do  what  is  proper  under  any 
and  all  circumstances,  and  we  will  continue  this 
vigorous  travel  if  you  can  make  the  necessity  of  it 
plain  to  me.  Frankly,  I  do  not  understand  why  we 
are  doing  it,  and  I  ask  you  to  tell  me." 

Ermine  continued  to  smoke  for  a  time,  and  having 
made  his  mind  up  he  removed  his  pipe  and  said 
slowly :  **  Mr.  Harding,  I  shot  Butler,  and  the  soldiers 
are  after  me.  I  have  to  go  fast  —  you  don't  —  that's 
all." 

The  gentleman  addressed  opened  wide  eyes  on  his 

guide  and  asked  in  low  amazement,  **  D me  —  did 

you }     Did  you  kill  him } " 

"  No,"  replied  Ermine. 

Rising  from  his  seat,  Mr.  Harding  took  the  scout 
to  one  side,  out  of  reach  of  other  ears,  and  made  him 
tell  the  story  of  the  affair,  with  most  of  the  girl  left 
out. 

"  Why  did  you  not  give  him  the  photograph  ? " 

**  Because  he  said  he  would  make  me  give  it  and 
drew  his  pistol,  and  what  is  more,  I  am  going  back  to 
kill  the  man  Butler  —  after  a  while.  We  must  go 
fast  to-morrow,  then  I  will  be  where  I  am  safe,  for  a 
time  at  least." 

All  this  gave  Harding  a  sleepless  night.  He  had 
neither  the  power  nor  the  inclination  to  arrest  the 
scout.  He  did  not  see  how  the  continuance  of  his 
hunt  would  interfere  with  final  justice ;  and  he  hoped 


FLIGHT  257 

to  calm  the  mood  and  stay  the  murderous  hand  of  the 
enraged  man.  So  in  half-bewilderment,  on  the  mor- 
row, that  staid  traveller  found  himself  galloping  away 
from  the  arms  of  the  law,  in  a  company  of  long-haired 
vagabonds ;  and  at  intervals  it  made  him  smile.  This 
was  one  of  those  times  when  he  wished  his  friends  at 
home  could  have  a  look  at  him. 

"  Say,  Wolf- Voice,"  said  he,  "  Ermine  says  he  is 
going  back  to  kill  Lieutenant  Butler  sometime  later." 

"  He  says  dat  —  hey  >  " 

"  Yes,  he  says  that." 

"  Wiell  den  —  she  wiell  do  eet  —  var  much,  'f raid  — 
what  for  she  wan  kiell  dose  man  Butler  ?  She  already 
waas  shoot  heem  en  the  harm." 

"  I  think  Ermine  is  jealous,"  ventured  Harding. 

"  What  you  call  jealous  ?  "  queried  the  half-breed. 

"Ermine  wants  Butler's  girl  and  cannot  get  her; 
that  is  the  trouble." 

"  Anah-a !  a  bag  of  a  squaw,  ees  eet } "  and  Wolf- 
Voice  ran  out  to  head  a  pack-horse  into  the  line  of 
flight.  Coming  back  he  continued :  "  Say,  Meester 
Harding,  dese  woman  he  ver  often  mak'  man  wan' 
kiell  some  ozer  man.     I  have  done  dose  ting." 

"Whew!"  said  Harding,  in  amazement,  but  he 
caught  himself.  "  But,  Wolf -Voice,  we  do  not  want 
our  friend  Ermine  to  do  it,  and  I  want  you  to  prom- 
ise me  you  will  help  me  to  keep  him  from  doing  it." 

"  'Spose  I  say,  '  Ermine,  you  no  kiell  Meester  But- 
ler '  —  he  teel  me  to  go  to  hell,  mabeso  —  what  den .? " 

"  Oh,  he  may  calm  down  later." 
s 


2S8  JOHN   ERMINE 

"  Na  —  Engun  she  no  forget,"  cautioned  the  half- 
breed. 

"  But  Ermine  is  not  an  Indian." 

"  Na,  but  she  all  de  same  Engun,"  which  was  true  so 
far  as  that  worthy  could  see. 

"  If  we  do  not  stop  him  from  killing  Butler,  he  will 
hang  or  be  shot  for  it,  sooner  or  later,  and  that  is  cer- 
tain," said  Harding. 

"  Yees  —  yees ;  deese  white  man  have  funny  way 
when  one  man  kiell  'nozer.  Ermine  ees  brave  man  — 
he  eese  see  red,  an'  he  wiell  try  eet  eef  he  do  hang. 
No  one  eese  able  for  stop  heem  but  deese  Crooked- 
Bear,"  observed  the  half-breed. 

"  Is  Crooked-Bear  an  Indian  chief  ? " 

**  Na ;  she  ain'  Enjun,  she  ain'  white  man ;  she  come 
out  of  the  groun*.  Hees  head  eet  waas  so  big  an* 
strong  eet  were  break  hees  back  for  to  carry  eet." 

"Where  does  this  person  live  ? "  ventured  Harding. 

"  Where  she  eese  lieve,  ah  ?  —  where  Ermine  an'  his 
pony  can  find  heem,"  was  the  vague  reply.  "You 
no  wan'  Ermine  for  kiell  deese  Butler ;  weel  den,  you 
say,  *  Ermine,  you  go  see  Crooked-Bear —  you  talk  wid 
heem.'  I  weel  take  you  where  you  wan'  go  een  de 
montaign  for  get  de  grizzly  bear." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  the  only  solution,  and  I  suppose 
it  is  my  duty  to  do  it,  though  the  thing  plays  havoc 
with  my  arrangements." 

Later  the  trail  steepened  and  wound  its  tortuous 
way  round  the  pine  and  boulders,  the  ponies  grunt- 
ing under  their  burdens  as  they  slowly  pushed  their 


FLIGHT  259 

toilsome  way  upwards.  When  Ermine  turned  here 
to  look  back  he  could  see  a  long  day's  march  on  the 
trail,  and  he  no  longer  worried  concerning  any  pur- 
suit which  might  have  been  in  progress.  They  found 
their  beds  early,  all  being  exhausted  by  the  long  day's 
march,  particularly  the  fugitive  scout. 

On  the  following  morning,  Harding  suggested 
that  he  and  Ermine  begin  the  hunting,  since  fresh 
meat  was  needed  in  camp ;  so  they  started.  In  two 
hours  they  had  an  elk  down  and  were  butchering 
him.  The  antlers  were  in  the  velvet  and  not  to  the 
head-hunter's  purpose.  Making  up  their  package  of 
meat  and  hanging  the  rest  out  of  the  way  of  prowl- 
ing animals,  to  wait  a  pack-horse,  they  sat  down  to 
smoke. 

''Are  you  still  intending  to  kill  Mr.  Butler?" 
ventured  Harding. 

"Yes,  when  you  are  through  hunting,  I  shall 
begin  —  begin  to  hunt  Butler," 

"You  will  find  your  hunting  very  dangerous, 
Ermine,"  ventured  Harding. 

"  It  does  not  matter ;  he  has  got  the  girl,  and  he 
may  have  my  life  or  I  shall  have  his." 

"But  you  cannot  have  the  girl.  Certainly  after 
killing  Butler  the  young  lady  will  not  come  to  you. 
Do  you  think  she  would  marry  you }  Do  you  dream 
you  are  her  choice  ? " 

"  No,  the  girl  would  not  marry  me ;  I  have  forgotten 
her,"  mused  Ermine,  as  he  patiently  lied  to  himself. 

"  Does  this  maiden  wish  to  marry  Butler  ? "  asked 


26o  JOHN   ERMINE 

Harding,  who  now  recalled  garrison  gossip  to  the 
effect  that  all  things  pointed  that  way. 
"  She  does." 

"  Then  why  do  you  kill  the  man  she  loves  ?  ** 
"  Because  I  do  not  want  to  think  he  is  alive." 
The  wide  vacancy  of  the  scout's  blue  eyes,  together 
with  the  low  deliberation  in  his  peaceful  voice,  was 
somewhat  appalling  to  Harding.  He  never  had 
thought  of  a  murderer  in  this  guise,  and  he  labored 
with  himself  to  believe  it  was  only  a  love-sickness  of 
rather  alarming  in  tenseness ;  but  there  was  something 
about  the  young  man  which  gave  this  idea  pause. 
His  desperation  in  battle,  his  Indian  bringing-up, 
made  it  all  extremely  possible,  and  he  searched  in 
vain  for  any  restraining  forces.  So  for  a  long  time 
they  sat  by  the  dead  elk,  and  Harding  sorted  and 
picked  out  all  the  possible  reasons  he  could  conjure 
as  to  why  Ermine  should  not  kill  Butler,  until  it  began 
to  dawn  upon  him  that  he  was  not  replying  to  his 
arguments  at  all,  but  simply  reiterating  his  own  inten- 
tions despite  them.  He  then  recalled  cases  in  Eng- 
land where  fists  had  been  the  arguments  under  a  rude 
lover's  code ;  only  out  here  the  argument  was  more 
vital,  more  insistent,  and  the  final  effect  left  the  lady 
but  one  choice  should  she  care  to  interest  herself  in 
the  affair. 

Resuming  his  talk,  Harding  suggested  that  his 
guide  go  to  his  own  friends,  who  might  advise  him 
more  potently  than  he  was  able,  and  ended  by  ask- 
ing pointedly,  "  You  have  friends,  I  presume  ? " 


FLIGHT  261 

"  I  have  one  friend,"  answered  the  youth,  sullenly. 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  Crooked-Bear,"  came  the  reply. 

"  Crooked-Bear  is  your  friend ;  then  you  must 
listen  to  him ;  what  he  advises  will  probably  be  the 
thing  to  do." 

"Of  course  I  will  listen  to  him.  He  is  the  only 
person  in  the  world  I  care  for  now.  I  have  often 
heard  him  talking  to  himself,  and  I  think  he  has 
known  a  woman  whom  he  cannot  forget,"  spoke 
Ermine.  "  He  will  not  want  me  to  seek  my  enemy's 
life.  I  have  talked  too  much,  Mr.  Harding.  Talk 
weakens  a  man's  heart.     I  will  make  no  more  talk." 

**  Well,  then,  my  man,  go  to  your  friend ;  I  can  do 
nothing  more,"  and  Harding  arose.  They  tied  their 
meat  on  the  saddles,  mounted,  and  sought  their  camp. 
On  the  following  morning  Ermine  had  gone. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   END   OF   ALL   THINGS 


♦  f  I  iHE  heart  of  the  rider  hung  like  a 
I  leaden  weight  in  his  body,  as  he 
cast  accustomed  glances  at  the 
old  trail  up  the  mountain  to  Crooked- 
Beards  cabin.  He  heard  the  dogs  bark,  and  gave 
the  wolf's  call  which  was  the  hermit's  countersign. 
The  dogs  grew  menacing  at  his  unfamiliar  scent, 
but  a  word  satisfied  them.  A  dog  forgets  many 
things  about  a  person  in  a  year,  but  never  his 
voice.  From  out  of  a  dark  corner  came  the  gob- 
lin of  the  desolate  mountain,  ready  with  his  gun  for 
the  unwelcome,  but  to  greet  Ermine  with  what  enthu- 
siasm his  silent  forest  ways  had  left  him.  For  a  long 
time  they  held  each  other's  hands,  while  their  faces 
lighted  with  pleasure ;  even  the  warmth  of  kindliness 
kindling  in  the  scout's  as  he  stood  in  the  presence  of 
one  who  did  not  seek  him  with  the  corner  of  his  eyes. 
As  they  built  the  fire  and  boiled  the  water,  the  old 
man  noted  the  improved  appearance  of  his  prot^g^ 
—  the  new  clothes  and  the  perfect  equipment  were  a 
starched  reminder  of  the  glories  of  the  old  world, 
which  he  had  left  in  the  years  long  gone.     He  plied 

262 


THE   END   OF  ALL  THINGS  263 

his  questions,  and  was  more  confused  to  uncover 
Ermine's  lack  of  enthusiasm  concerning  the  events 
which  must  have  been  tremendous,  and  with  diffi- 
culty drew  the  belated  news  of  war  and  men  and 
things  from  him.  Then  like  the  raising  of  a  curtain, 
which  reveals  the  play,  the  hermit  saw  suddenly  that 
it  was  heavy  and  solemn  —  he  was  to  see  a  tragedy, 
and  this  was  not  a  play ;  it  was  real,  it  w^s  his  boy, 
and  he  did  not  want  to  see  a  tragedy. 

He  feared  to  have  it  go  on  ;  he  shut  his  eyes  for 
a  long  time,  and  then  rose  to  his  feet  and  put  his 
hands  on  the  young  man's  shoulders.  He  sought 
the  weak  gleam  of  the  eyes  in  the  dusk  of  the  cabin. 
"  Tell  me,  boy,  tell  me  all ;  you  cannot  hide  it  any 
more  than  a  deer  can  hide  his  trail  in  the  snow.  I 
can  read  your  thoughts." 

Ermine  did  not  immediately  reply,  but  the  leaden 
heart  turned  slowly  into  a  burning  coal. 

"Crooked-Bear,  I  wanted  a  white  girl  for  my 
wife,  and  I  shot  a  soldier,  who  drew  a  revolver  and 
said  he  would  force  me  to  give  him  her  picture 
which  I  had  in  my  pocket,  and  then  I  ran  away, 
everybody  shooting  at  me.  They  may  even  come 
here  for  me.  They  want  to  stand  me  up  beside  the 
long  table  with  all  the  officers  sitting  around  it,  and 
they  want  to  take  me  out  and  hang  me  on  a  tree  for 
the  ravens  and  magpies  to  pick  at.  That  is  what 
your  white  people  want  to  do  to  me,  Crooked-Bear, 
and  by  God  they  are  going  to  have  a  chance  to  do 
it,  for  I  am  going  back  to  kill  the  man  and  get  the 


264  JOHN   ERMINE 

girl  or  die.      Do  you  hear  that,  Crooked-Bear,  do 
you  hear  that  ?  " 

The  hermit's  arms  dropped  to  his  side,  and  he 
could  make  no  sound  or  sign.  '*  Sit  down,  be  quiet, 
boy ;  let  us  talk  more  of  this  thing.  Be  calm,  and  I 
can  find  a  reason  why  you  will  not  want  to  stain  your 
hands  with  this  man's  blood.  When  I  sent  you  to 
the  white  men  to  do  a  man's  work  in  a  white  man's 
way,  I  did  not  think  you  would  lock  horns  with  any 
buck  you  met  on  the  trail,  like  the  dumb  things  that 
carry  their  reason  for  being  on  the  point  of  their 
antlers  —  sit  down."  And  the  long  arms  of  the  her- 
mit waved  with  a  dropping  motion. 

Ermine  sat  down,  but  by  no  means  found  his  com- 
posure. Even  in  the  darkness  his  eyes  gave  an  un- 
natural light,  his  muscles  twitched,  and  his  feet  were 
not  still.  "  I  knew,  Crooked-Bear,  I  knew  you 
would  talk  that  way.  It  is  the  soft  talk  of  the  white 
men.  She  made  a  fool  of  me,  and  he  was  going  to 
put  his  foot  on  me  as  though  John  Ermine  was  a 
grasshopper,  and  every  white  man  would  say  to  me 
after  that, '  Be  quiet.  Ermine,  sit  down.'  Bah  !  I  will  be 
quiet  and  I  will  sit  down  until  they  forget  a  little,  and 
then  —  "  Ermine  emitted  the  savage  snarl  of  a  lynx  in 
a  steel  trap.  Slapping  his  knee,  he  continued :  "  The 
white  men  in  the  camp  are  two-sided ;  they  pat  you 
with  a  hand  that  is  always  ready  to  strike.  When 
the  girl  looked  at  me,  it  lighted  a  fire  in  my  heart, 
and  then  she  blew  the  flame  until  I  was  burning  up. 
She  told  me  as  well  as  any  words  can  say,  'Come 


THE   END   OF   ALL  THINGS  265 

on,'  and  when  I  offered  her  my  hand  she  blatted 
like  a  fawn  and  ran  away.  As  if  that  were  not 
enough,  this  Butler  walked  into  the  room  and  talked 
to  me  as  though  I  were  a  dog  and  drew  his  gun  ; 
everything  swam  before  my  eyes,  and  they  swim  yet, 
Crooked-Bear.  I  tell  you  I  will  kill  him  as  surely  as 
day  follows  night.  These  soldiers  talk  as  white  and 
soft  as  milk  when  it  suits  their  plan,  but  old  Major 
Searles  says  that  they  stand  pat  in  war,  that  they  never 
give  up  the  fight,  that  they  must  win  if  it  takes 
years  to  do  it.     Very  well,  I  shall  not  forget  that." 

"  But,  my  boy,  you  must  not  see  red  in  a  private 
feud ;  that  is  only  allowed  against  the  enemies  of  the 
whole  people.  Your  heart  has  gone  to  your  head ; 
you  can  never  win  a  white  woman  by  spilling  the 
blood  of  the  other  man  who  happens  to  love  her 
also.     That  is  not  the  way  with  them." 

"  No,  it  is  not  the  way  with  them ;  it  is  the  way 
with  their  women  to  set  a  man  on  fire  and  then  laugh 
at  him,  and  it  is  the  way  with  their  men  to  draw  a 
gun.  What  do  they  expect,  Crooked-Bear?  I  ask 
you  that ! " 

**  Who  was  the  girl,  Ermine } " 

The  scout  unwrapped  the  package  from  his  bosom, 
and  handed  the  photograph  to  the  old  man,  saying, 
"  She  is  like  that." 

The  hermit  regarded  the  picture  and  ventured, 
"An  officer's  daughter.?" 

"  Yes ;  daughter  of  Major  Searles." 

"  Who  was  the  man  you  shot  .'*  " 


266  JOHN   ERMINE 

"  A  young  pony  soldier,  —  an  officer ;  his  name 
is  Butler."  And  gradually  Ermine  was  led  to  reveal 
events  to  the  wise  man,  who  was  able  to  piece  out 
the  plot  with  much  knowledge  not  natural  to  the 
wilds  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  And  it  was  a 
tragedy.  He  knew  that  the  girl's  unfortunate  shot 
had  penetrated  deeper  than  Ermine's,  and  that  the 
Law  and  the  Lawless  were  in  a  death  grapple. 

They  sought  their  bunks,  and  in  the  following 
days  the  prophet  poured  much  cold  water  on 
Ermine's  determination,  which  only  turned  to  steam 
and  lost  itself  in  the  air.  The  love  of  the  woman 
and  the  hate  of  the  man  had  taken  root  in  the  bed- 
rock of  his  human  nature,  and  the  pallid  "  should 
nots  "  and  "must  nots  "  of  the  prophet  only  rustled 
the  leaves  of  Ermine's  philosophy. 

"He  has  taken  her  from  me;  he  has  made  me 
lose  everything  I  worked  for  with  the  white  men ; 
he  has  made  me  a  human  wolf,  and  I  mean  to  go 
back  and  kill  him.  You  say  I  may  lose  my  life ;  ho ! 
what  is  a  dead  man  ?  A  dead  man  and  a  buffalo 
chip  look  just  alike  to  these  mountains,  to  this  sky, 
and  to  me,  Crooked-Bear,"  came  the  lover's  reply. 

And  at  other  times  :  "  I  know,  Crooked-Bear,  that 
you  wanted  a  girl  to  marry  you  once,  and  because 
she  would  not,  you  have  lived  all  your  life  like  a 
gray  bear  up  here  in  these  rocks,  and  you  will  die 
here.  I  am  not  going  to  do  that;  I  am  going  to 
make  others  drink  with  me  this  bitter  drink,  which 
will  sweeten  it  for  me." 


THE   END   OF   ALL  THINGS  267 

Sadly  the  hermit  saw  this  last  interest  on  earth 
pass  from  him ;  saw  Fate  wave  her  victorious  ban- 
ners over  him ;  saw  the  forces  of  nature  work  their 
will ;  and  he  sank  under  the  burden  of  his  thoughts. 
"  I  had  hoped,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  to  be  able  to 
restore  this  boy  to  his  proper  place  among  the  white 
people,  but  I  have  failed.  I  do  not  understand  why 
men  should  be  so  afflicted  in  this  world  as  Ermine 
and  I  have  been,  but  doubtless  it  is  the  working  of 
a  great  law,  and  possibly  of  a  good  one.  My  long 
years  as  a  hunter  have  taught  me  that  the  stopping 
of  the  heart-beat  is  no  great  thing  —  it  is  soon  over; 
but  the  years  of  living  that  some  men  are  made  to 
undergo  is  a  very  trying  matter.  Brave  and  sane  is 
he  who  keeps  his  faith.     I  fear  for  the  boy." 

After  a  few  weeks  Ermine  could  no  longer  bear 
with  the  sullen  savagery  of  his  emotions,  and  he  took 
his  departure.  Crooked-Bear  sat  by  his  cabin  door 
and  saw  him  tie  his  blanket  on  his  saddle ;  saw  him 
mount  and  extend  his  hand,  which  he  shook,  and 
they  parted  without  a  word.  They  had  grown  ac- 
customed to  this  ending ;  there  was  nothing  in  words 
that  mattered  now.  The  prophet's  boy  disappeared 
in  the  gloom  of  the  woods,  snapping  bushes,  and 
rolling  stones,  until  there  was  no  sound  save  the 
crackling  of  the  fire  on  the  lonely  hearth. 

As  Ermine  ambled  over  the  yellow  wastes,  he 
thought  of  the  difference  between  now  and  his  going 
to  the  white  man  one  year  ago.  Then  he  was  full  of 
hopes ;  but  now  no  Crow  Indian  would  dare  be  seen 


268  JOHN   ERMINE 

in  his  company  —  not  even  Wolf -Voice  could  offer 
him  the  comfort  of  his  reckless  presence.  He  was 
compelled  to  sneak  into  the  Absaroke  camp  in  the 
night,  to  trade  for  an  extra  pony  with  his  relatives, 
and  to  be  gone  before  the  morning.  The  ghostly 
tepees,  in  the  quiet  of  the  night,  seemed  to  dance 
around  him,  coming  up,  and  then  retiring,  while 
their  smoke-flaps  waved  their  giant  fingers,  beckon- 
ing him  to  be  gone.  The  dogs  slunk  from  him,  and 
the  ponies  walked  away.  The  curse  of  the  white 
man  was  here  in  the  shadows,  and  he  could  feel  the 
Indians  draw  their  robes  more  closely  over  their 
heads  as  they  dreamed.  The  winds  from  the  moun- 
tains blew  on  his  back  to  help  him  along,  and  whis- 
pered ugly  thoughts.  All  the  good  of  the  world  had 
drawn  away  from  Ermine,  and  it  seemed  that  the  sun 
did  not  care  to  look  at  him,  so  long  was  he  left  to 
stumble  through  the  dark.  But  Nature  did  not  paint 
this  part  of  her  day  any  blacker  than  she  had  Er- 
mine's heart;  each  footfall  of  his  pony  took  him 
nearer  to  death,  and  he  whipped  on  impatiently  to 
meet  it.  Hope  had  long  since  departed  —  he  could 
not  steal  the  girl;  he  realized  the  impossibility  of 
eluding  pursuit ;  he  only  wanted  to  carry  Butler 
with  him  away  from  her.  All  the  patient  training 
of  Crooked-Bear,  all  the  humanizing  influence  of 
white  association,  all  softening  moods  of  the  pensive 
face  in  the  photograph,  were  blown  from  the  fugi- 
tive as  though  carried  on  a  wind ;  he  was  a  shellfish- 
eating  cave-dweller,  with  a  Springfield,  a  knife,  and 


THE   END   OF  ALL  THINGS  269 

a  revolver.  He  had  ceased  to  think  in  English,  and 
muttered  to  himself  in  Absaroke.  As  his  pony 
stumbled  at  a  ford  in  the  river,  he  cut  it  savagely 
with  his  whip,  —  the  pony  which  was  the  last  of  his 
friends,  —  and  it  grunted  piteously  as  it  scrambled 
for  its  foothold. 

Day  after  day  he  crawled  through  the  rugged  hills 
far  from  the  places  where  men  might  be ;  for  every 
one  was  his  enemy,  and  any  chance  rifle  would  take 
away  from  him  his  vengeance.  The  tale  of  his 
undoing  had  travelled  wide  —  he  found  that  out  in 
the  Crow  camp;  Ba-cher-hish-a  had  told  him  that 
through  her  tears.  He  could  trust  no  one;  the 
scouts  at  Tongue  River  might  be  apathetic  in  an 
attempt  to  capture  him,  but  they  could  not  fail  to 
report  his  presence  if  seen  in  the  vicinity.  Butler 
was  probably  in  the  middle  of  the  log-town,  which 
swarmed  with  soldiers,  but  it  was  there  he  must  go, 
and  he  had  one  friend  left,  just  one ;  it  is  always 
the  last  friend  such  a  one  has,  —  the  Night. 

Having  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  the  post,  he 
prowled  out  on  foot  with  his  only  friend.  It  was 
early,  for  he  must  do  his  deed  while  yet  the  Hghts 
were  lit.  Any  one  moving  about  after  "  taps  "  would 
surely  be  investigated  by  the  guard.  The  country 
was  not  yet  tranquil  enough  to  permit  of  laxity  in 
the  matter  of  sentry  duty,  and  the  soldiers  counted 
"ten"  very  fast  after  they  challenged.  He  had  laid 
aside  his  big  hat,  and  was  wrapped  in  his  blanket. 
Many  Indians  were  about,  and  he  was  less  apt  to  be 


270  JOHN   ERMINE 

spoken  to  or  noticed.  He  moved  forward  to  the 
scout  fire,  which  was  outside  of  the  guard-Hne,  and 
stood  for  a  time  in  some  brushwood,  beyond  the  play 
of  the  flames.  He  was  closely  enveloped  in  his 
blanket,  and  although  Indians  passed  quite  near  him, 
he  was  not  noticed.  Suddenly  he  heard  a  detail  of 
wagons  clanking  up  the  road,  and  conjectured  rightly 
that  they  would  go  into  the  post.  He  ran  silently 
toward  them,  and  stooping  low,  saw  against  the  sky- 
line that  the  cavalry  guard  had  worked  up  in  front, 
impatient  to  shave  the  time  when  they  should  reach 
their  quarters. 

It  was  a  wood  train,  and  it  clanked  and  ground 
and  jingled  to  the  quartermaster's  corral,  bearing  one 
log  on  the  last  wagon  which  was  John  Ermine  and 
his  fortunes.  This  log  slid  to  the  ground  and  walked 
swiftly  away. 

****** 

The  time  for  " taps''  was  drawing  near,  and  the 
post  buzzed  in  the  usual  expectation  of  that  approach- 
ing time  of  quiet,  A  rifle-shot  rang  loud  and  clear 
up  on  the  officers'  row;  it  was  near  Major  Searles's 
house,  every  one  said  as  they  ran.  Women  screamed, 
and  Tongue  River  cantonment  laid  its  legs  to  the 
ground  as  it  gathered  to  the  place.  Officers  came 
with  revolvers,  and  the  guard  with  lanterns.  Mrs. 
Searles  and  her  daughter  were  clasped  in  each 
other's  arms,  while  Mary,  the  cook,  put  her  apron 
over  her  head.  Searles  ran  out  with  his  gun;  the 
shot  had  been  right  under  the  window  of  his  sitting- 


THE   END   OF  ALL  THINGS  271 

room.  An  Indian  voice  greeted  him,  "  Don'  shoot ; 
me  killi  him." 

"  Who  in   h are  you  ? "  swore  Searles,  at  a 

present. 

"  Don'  shoot,  me  Ahhseta  —  all  same  Sharp-Nose 
—  don'  shoot  —  me  killi  him." 

"Killi  who.?  Who  have  you  killed.?  Talk  up 
quick ! " 

"  Me  killi  him.     You  come  —  you  see." 

By  this  time  the  crowd  drew  in  with  questions  and 
eager  to  help.  A  sergeant  arrived  with  a  lantern, 
and  the  guard  laid  rude  hands  on  the  Crow  scout, 
Sharp-Nose,  who  was  well  known.  He  was  standing 
over  the  prostrate  figure,  and  continued  to  reiterate, 
"  Me  killi  him." 

The  lantern  quickly  disclosed  the  man  on  the 
ground  to  be  John  Ermine,  late  scout  and  fugitive 
from  justice,  shot  through  the  heart  and  dead,  with 
his  blanket  and  rifle  on  the  ground  beside  him.  As 
he  looked  through  the  window,  he  had  been  stalked 
and  killed  by  the  fool  whom  he  would  not  allow  to 
shake  hands  with  Katherine  Searles,  and  a  few  mo- 
ments later,  when  Sharp-Nose  was  brought  into  her 
presence,  between  two  soldiers,  she  recognized  him 
when  he  said,  "  Mabeso,  now  you  shake  hands." 

"Yes,  I  will  shake  hands  with  you,  Sharp-Nose," 
and  half  to  herself,  as  she  eyed  her  malevolent  friend, 
she  muttered,  "and  he  kept  you  to  remember  me 
by." 


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contribution  to  the  subject."  —  Louisville  Courier- Journal. 

Pierce  —  The  Tariff  and  the  Trusts 
By  Franklin  Pierce 
"An  excellent  campaign  document  for  a  non-protectionist." — Inde- 
pendent. 

Rauschenbusch  —  Christianity  and  the  Social  Crisis 
By  Walter  Rauschenbusch 
"  It  is  a  book  to  like,  to  learn  from,  and  to  be  charmed  with."  — 
NevD  York  Times. 

7 


Riis  —  The  Making  of  an  American 
By  Jacob  Rns 
"  Its  romance  and  vivid  incident  make  it  as  varied  and  delightful  as 
any  romance."  — Publisher's  Weekly. 

Riis  —  Theodore  Roosevelt,  the  Citizen 
By  Jacob  Rns 
"A  refreshing  and  stimulating  picture."  —  New  York  Tribune, 

Ryan  —  A  Living  Wage ;  Its  Ethical  and  Economic  Aspects 
By  Rev.  J.  A.  Ryan 
"The  most  judicious  and  balanced  discussion  at  the  disposal  of  the 
general  reader."  —  World  To-day. 

St.  Maur  —  A  Self-supporting  Home 
By  Kate  V.  St.  Maur 
"  Each  chapter  is  the  detailed  account  of  all  the  work  necessary  for 
one  month  —  in  the  vegetable  garden,  among  the  small  fruits,  with  the 
fowls,  guineas,  rabbits,  and  in  every  branch  of  husbandry  to  be  met 
with  on  the  small  farm." — Louisville  Courier- Journal, 

Sherman  —  What  is  Shakespeare  ? 
By  L.  A.  Sherman 
"  Emphatically  a  work  without  which  the  library  of  the  Shakespeare 
student  will  be  incomplete."  — Daily  Telegram. 

Sidgwick  —  Home  Life  in  Germany 
By  a.  Sidgwick 
"  A  vivid  picture  of  social  life  and  customs  in  Germany  to-day." 

Smith  —  The  Spirit  of  American  Government 
By  J.  Allen  Smith 
"Not  since  Bryce's  'American  Commonwealth'  has  a  book  been 
produced  which  deals  so  searchingly  with  American  political  institutions 
and  their  history."  —  New  York  Evening  Telegram. 

Spargo  —  Socialism 

By  John  Spargo 
"One  of  the  ablest  expositions  of  Socialism  that  has  ever  been 
written." ' —  New  York  Evening  Call. 

8 


Tarbell — History  of  Greek  Art 
By  T.  B.  Tarbell 
"  A  sympathetic  and  understanding  conception  of  the  golden  age  of 
art." 

Valentine — How  to  Keep  Hens  for  Profit 

By  C.  S.  Valentine 
"  Beginners  and  seasoned  poultrymen  will  find  in  it  much  of  value." 
—  Chicago  Tribune. 

Van  Dyke  —  The  Gospel  for  a  World  of  Sin 
By  Heney  Van  Dyke 
"One  of  the  basic  books  of  true  Christian  thought  of  to-day  and  of 
all  times."  —  Boston  Courier. 

Van  Dyke  —  The  Spirit  of  America 
By  Henry  Van  Dyke 
"  Undoubtedly  the  most  notable  interpretation  in  years  of  the  real 
America.    It  compares  favorably  with  Bryce's  'American  Common- 
wealth.' "  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

Veblen  —  The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class 
By  Thorstein  B.  Veblen 
"The  most  valuable  recent  contribution  to  the  elucidation  of  this 
subject."  —  London  Times. 

Wells  — New  Worlds  for  Old 
By  H.  G.  Wells 
"  As  a  presentation  of  Socialistic  thought  as  it  is  working  to-day,  this 
is  the  most  judicious  and  balanced  discussion  at  the  disposal  of  the 
general  reader."  —  World  To-day. 

White— -The  Old  Order  Changeth 

By  Willlam  Allen  White 
"  The  present  status  of  society  in  America.    An  excellent  antidote  to 
the  pessimism  of  modern  writers  on  our  social  system."  —  Baltimore 
Sun. 

9^ 


THE  MACMILLAN  FICTION  LIBRARY 


A  new  and  important  series  of  some  of  the  best  popular  novels  which 
have  been  published  in  recent  years. 

These  successful  books  are  now  made  available  at  a  popular  price  in 
response  to  the  insistent  demand  for  cheaper  editions. 


Each  volume,  cloth,  12mo,  50  cents  net;  postage,  10  cents  extra 


Allen  —  A  Kentucky  Cardinal 

By  James  Lane  Allen 
"A  narrative,  told  with  naive  simplicity,  of  how  a  man  who  was 
devoted  to  his  fruits  and  flowers  and  birds  came  to  fall  in  love  with  a 
fair  neighbor."  — New  York  Tribune. 

Allen  — The  Reign  of  Law        A  Tale  of  the  Kentucky  Hempfields 

By  James  Lane  Allen 
"  Mr.  Allen  has  style  as  original  and  almost  as  perfectly  finished  as 
Hawthorne's.  .  .  .    And  rich  in  the  qualities  that  are  lacking  in  so 
many  novels  of  the  period."  — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

Atherton  —  Patience  Sparhawk 
By  Gertrude  Atherton 
"One  of  the  most  interesting  works  of    the    foremost  American 
novehst." 

Child  —  Jim  Hands 

By  Richard  Washburn  Child 
"A  big,  simple,  leisurely  moving  chronicle  of  life.    Commands  the 
profoundest  respect  and  admiration.    Jim  is  a  real  man,  sound  and 
fine." — Daily  News. 

Crawford  —  The  Heart  of  Rome 

By  Marion  Crawford 
"A  story  of  underground  mysterie." 

Crawford  —  Fair  Margaret:  A  Portrait 
By  Marion  Crawford 
"A  story  of  modern  life  in  Italy,  visualizing  the  country  and  its 
people,  and  warm  with  the  red  blood  of  romance  and  melodrama."  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

lO 


Davis  —  A  Friend  of  Caesar 

By  William  Stearns  Davis 
"  There  are  many  incidents  so  vivid,  so  brilliant,  that  they  fix  them- 
selves in  the  memory."  —  Nancy  Huston  Banks  in  The  Bookman. 

Drummond  —  The  Justice  of  the  King 
By  Hamilton  Drummond 
"  Read  the  story  for  the  sake  of  the  living,  breathing  people,  the  ad- 
ventures, but  most  for  the  sake  of  the  boy  who  served  love  and  the 
King."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 

"  It  is  full  of  nature  in  many  phases  —  of  breeze  and  sunshine,  of  the 
glory  of  the  land,  and  the  sheer  joy  of  living." — New  York  Times. 

Gale  —  Loves  of  Pelleas  and  Etarre 
By  Zona  Gale 
"...  full  of  fresh  feeling  and  grace  of  style,  a  draught  from  th« 
fountain  of  youth."  — Outlook. 

Herrick  —  The  Common  Lot 

By  Robert  Herrick 
"  A  story  of  present-day  life,  intensely  real  in  its  picture  of  a  young 
architect  whose  ideals  in  the  beginning  were,  at  their  highest,  aesthetic 
rather  than  spiritual.    It  is  an  unusual  novel  of  great  interest." 

London — Adventure 
By  Jack  London 
"  No  reader  of  Jack  London's  stories  need  be  told  that  this  abounds 
with  romantic  and  dramatic  incident."  —  Los  Angeles  Tribune. 

London  —  Burning  Daylight 
By  Jack  London 
"  Jack  London  has  outdone  himself  in  '  Burning  Daylight.' "  —  The 

Springfield  Union. 

Loti  —  Disenchanted 
By  Pierre  Loti 
"  It  gives  a  more  graphic  picture  of  the  life  of  the  rich  Turkish  women 
of  to-day  than  anythmg  that  has  ever  been  vfritttn."  —Brooklyn  Daily 
Eagle. 

II 


Lucas  —  Mr.  Ingleside 
By  E.  V.  Lucas 
"  He  displays  himself  as  an  intellectual  and  amusing  observer  of  life's 
foibles  with  a  hero  characterized  by  inimitable]  kindness  and  humor/' 
—  The  Independent. 

Mason  —  The  Four  Feathers 
By  a.  E.  W.  Mason 
" '  The  Four  Feathers '  is  a  first-rate  story,  with  more  legitimate 
thrills  than  any  novel  we  have  read  in  a  long  time."  — New  York  Press. 

Norris  —  Mother 

By  Kathleen  Norris 
"  Worth  its  weight  in  gold."  —  Catholic  Columbian. 

Oxenham  —  The  Long  Road 

By  John  Oxenham 
"  *  The  Long  Road '  is  a  tragic,  heart-gripping  story  of  Russian  politi- 
cal and  social  conditions."  —  The  Craftsman. 

Pryor  — The  Colonel's  Story 

By  Mrs.  Roger  A.  Pryor 
"  The  story  is  one  in  which  the  spirit  of  the  Old  South  figures  largely ; 
adventure  and  romance  have  their  play  and  carry  the  plot  to  a  satisfy- 
ing end." 

Remington  —  Ermine  of  the  Yellowstone 

By  John  Remington 
"  A  very  original  and  remarkable  novel  wonderful  in  its  vigor  and 

freshness." 

Roberts  —  Kings  in  Exile 

By  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts 
"  The  author  catches  the  spirit  of  forest  and  sea  life,  and  the  reader 
comes  to  have  a  personal  love  and  knowledge  of  our  animal  friends." 
— Boston  Globe. 

Robins  —  The  Convert 

By  Elizabeth  Robins 
" '  The  Convert '  devotes  itself  to  the  exploitation  of  the  recent  suf- 
fragist movement  in  England.    It  is  a  book  not  easily  forgotten,  by  any 
thoughtful  reader." — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

12 


Robins  —  A  Dark  Lantern 

By  Elizabeth  Robins 
A  powerful  and  striking  novel,  English  in  scene,  which  takes  an  essen- 
tially modern  view  of  society  and  of  certain  dramatic  situations. 

Ward  —  David  Grieve 

By  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward 
"  A  perfect  picture  of  life,  remarkable  for  its  humor  and  extraordinary 
success  at  character  analysis." 

Wells  — The  Wheels  of  Chance 
By  H.  G.  Wells 
"  Mr.  Wells  is  beyond  question  the  most  plausible  romancer  of  the 
time."  —  The  New  York  Tribune. 


THE  MACMILLAN  JUVENILE  LIBRARY 


This  collection  of  juvenile  books  contains  works  of  standard  quality, 
on  a  variety  of  subjects  —  history,  biography,  fiction,  science,  and  p>oetry 
—  carefully  chosen  to  meet  the  needs  and  interests  of  both  boys  and 
girls.  

Each  volume,  cloth,  12mo,  SO  cents  net;  postage,  10  cents  extra 


Altsheler  —  The  Horsemen  of  the  Plains 
By  Joseph  A.  Altsheler 
"  A  story  of  the  West,  of  Indians,  of  scouts,  trappers,  fur  traders,  and, 
in  short,  of  everything  that  is  dear  to  the  imagination  of  a  healthy 
American  boy." — New  York  Sun. 

Bacon  —  While  Caroline  Was  Growing 

By  Josephine  Daskam  Bacon 
"  Only  a  genuine  lover  of  children,  and  a  keenly  sympathetic  observer 
of  human  nature,  could  have  given  us  a  book  as  this." — Boston  Herald. 

Carroll  —  Alice*s  Adventures,  and  Through  the  Looking  Glass 

By  Lewis  Carroll 
**  One  of  the  immortal  books  for  children." 

Dix  —  A  Little  Captive  Lad 

By  Marie  Beulah  Dix 
"The  human  interest  is  strong,  and  children  are  sure  to  like  it."  — 

Washington  Times. 


Greene  —  Pickett's  Gap 
By  Homer  Greene 
"  The  story  presents  a  picture  of  truth  and  honor  that  cannot  fail  to 
have  a  vivid  impression  upon  the  reader."  —  Toledo  Blade. 

Lucas  —  Slowcoach 

By  E.  V.  Lucas 
"The  record  of  an  English  family's  coaching  tour  in  a  ^reat  old- 
fashioned  wagon.    A  charming  narrative,  as  quaint  and  original  as  its 
name." — Booknews  Monthly. 

Mabie  —  Book  of  Christmas 
By  H.  W.  Mabie 
"  A  beautiful  collection  of  Christmas  verse  and  prose  in  which  all  the 
old  favorites  will  be  found  in  an  artistic  setting."  —  The  Si.  Louis  Mir- 
tor. 

Major  —  The  Bears  of  Blue  River 

By  Charles  Major 
"  An  exciting  story  with  all  the  thrills  the  title  implies/* 

Major  —  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill 
By  Charles  Major 
"A  stirring  story  full  of  bears,  Indians,  and  hidden  treasures.'*  — 
Cleveland  Leader. 

Nesbit  — The  Railway  Children 
By  E.  Nesbit 
"A  delightful  story  revealing  the  author's  intimate  knowledge  of 
juvenile  ways."  —  The  Nation. 

Whyte  — The  Story  Book  Girls 
By  Christina  G.  Whyte 
"A  book  that  all  girls  will  read  with  delight  —  a  sweet,  wholesome 
story  of  girl  life." 

Wright  —  Dream  Fox  Story  Book 
By  Mabel  Osgood  Wright 
"  The  whole  book  is  delicious  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  its  just 
perspective  of  the  true  value  of  things." 

Wright  — Aunt  Jimmy's  Will 

By  Mabel  Osgood  Wright 
"  Barbara  has  written  no  more  delightful  book  than  this." 

14 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.00  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


JUN  271935 


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